


New York’s Finest

by givemesomewings



Series: You Do Something to Me [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, I'm too tired to tag properly right now, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s01e13 Daredevil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemesomewings/pseuds/givemesomewings
Summary: Matt turned toward Frank, utter shock written all over his face. How could the kid he’d fallen in love with have grown into the monster standing in front of him?
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Series: You Do Something to Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572853
Comments: 42
Kudos: 151





	1. A Little Death

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in an alternate version of S2E3 of Daredevil. Matt and Frank meet, except this time, it's a reunion instead of an introduction.
> 
> -
> 
> So, I'm back almost a full two months later. I've been making a lot of changes in my personal and professional life, and I've learned that being an adult is VERY time consuming. I'll try to figure it out so that it doesn't take me so long to update the next chapter.

Matt woke slowly, still disoriented from everything that had taken place. He could taste the blood from his split lip, feel the bruises spreading across his ribs. And he still had a horrible headache, making it all the more difficult to use his senses.

He didn’t move, taking his time to try and figure out where he was and what exactly was happening.

He was outside, that much he could gather. He could tell from the cold night air and how loudly the traffic was below him.

Below. He was above the sounds of the never-ending flow of cars, so he must be somewhere high, a rooftop. But where?

He could hear loud, bolstering laughter and smell cheap beer in the air, tons of it. He must be near a bar.

He shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better idea of his surroundings then stopping when he heard the soft clank of metal.

He discreetly attempted to lift his arms, not surprised to find that they were restrained. Apparently by several chains, all wrapped around his torso.

Matt really needed to figure out how he’d gotten here.

“Morning, sunshine.”

The ‘Punisher’. It all came rushing back to him.

Matt had caught him right before he could take out his next victim then did his best to subdue him for the police. He tried to take the guy down but he was surprisingly fast, especially considering his size.

Matt was still faster, considerably so, but the man was basically a brick wall. He was also, at least, a moderately trained fighter and obviously a skilled marksman, ringing off shots from weapons Matt didn’t even know he had.

They’d both gone tumbling through yet another rooftop, but he must’ve woken up before Matt and somehow dragged him back to wherever they were now. His senses were still a bit off because of that fall. That and the bullet to the head he’d taken a couple of days ago, also courtesy of the Punisher.

His rage came back anew, remembering all the pain this man had caused not only Matt, but all of Hell’s Kitchen.

“They say you don't hear the bullet that gets you,” the man rumbled. His voice was deep. It sounded like he’d been gargling broken glass.

“Always thought that sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me. How about you? When I cracked off your forehead the other night did you hear that?”

Matt didn’t respond. He just strained against the chains, using all of his strength to pull away from the restraints.

“You can bash against your chains all night. Only way you get out of here, only way you walk free, is if I want you to. Know that.”

Matt stiffened in anger. He was starting to hate this guy more and more every second he sat chained to this fucking rooftop. He wasn’t gonna make it out of here using brute strength, so he decided to change tactics. Time to get to know his opponent.

“Why didn't you take my mask off?”

“Don't give a shit about who you are,” the man responded gruffly. Matt hummed thoughtfully.

“You killed everyone else. Why am I still alive?”

Silence. “I got in your way twice now and you don't strike me as someone who just lets that happen.”

Silence, again. Then a loud click. A magazine sliding into place. The man was assembling a gun.

Matt’s senses really must be off if he hadn’t picked up on the distinct smell of gun oil and the array of bullets and metals the man was tinkering with.

Matt figured he’d get in a couple more questions before the man decided to finish what he’d started a couple of days ago and finally kill him. And this time he’d definitely get the job done. The man was putting together what sounded closer to a machine gun than the weapon he’d used on Matt’s helmet.

“Military grade hardware. You seem to know your way around it.”

The man said nothing. He stomped toward another corner of the rooftop in search of something. He rifled through a container before he found what he was looking for. He walked rigidly back to the first corner before sliding into a sitting position with a heavy sigh.

Matt could tell from the way that the man moved quickly and efficiently, from his near perfect posture and stiff shoulders, that the man had history with the military.

“And you sure carry yourself like a soldier,” he commented. “What are you gonna do with all this?”

The man’s heartbeat sped up briefly before settling back down.

“I’ll do what’s required,” he answered curtly. He unscrewed the lid to a thermos and took several hearty gulps. Coffee. Black.

He picked up another gun and slid its magazine into place. He hummed in approval before setting it back down. His silence and steady heartbeat were starting to become unsettling to Matt. Why was he so calm?

“This another one of your missions? That's why we're here, isn't it?” he questioned. “How many will this make?”

The man’s only response was another sigh, this time in irritation.

“I'm guessing you've done this, what ten, maybe 20 times? How long's it been? Six months, a year or your whole life? Something tells me you don't take breaks,” Matt said, taking a breath before he continued.

“You know, no one else has to die. You could stop now. Walk away. You could-“

“Walk away? Could you do that? Could you walk away?” he interrupted. This time it was Matt’s turn to be silent.

“Yeah,” the man said smugly. Matt was still deciding on a response when he heard a bell toll.

“What is that, midnight?”

“St. Matthew's,” the man said. Matt nodded in response. He decided to approach the man from another angle.

“You a Catholic?”

“Once.”

Matt hummed in acknowledgement, discreetly perking up at the information. ”From New York?”

“Once.”

Matt chuckled softly. He felt like he was starting to get somewhere, he just didn’t know where. He figured he might as well keep asking questions until he hit a soft spot.

“You still go to Mass?”

“Stop now,” the man said, as if he could sense Matt starting to gain some traction.

“Stop?” Matt asked innocently.

“Stop digging.”

“Ah,” Matt nodded in understanding before he resumed digging.

“You know, a funny thing about New York? Few people are actually from here. The ones who are they don't leave. They can't, they…” Matt paused, deciding on the right words to use.

“They feel like the city's a part of them. You know? Until one day, something changes. Maybe they get older. And then they have to leave. See the world, maybe. Maybe they enlist?” Matt finished heavily. “Where'd they send you?”

“You a shrink?” the man asked. The smile in his voice implied anything but happiness. “Now, come on, you gotta be something when you're not wearing the long johns, right?” he asked condescendingly.

Matt laughed. “I’m just a guy.”

The man said nothing for a long stretch of seconds. Matt wasn’t sure, but he thought the guy was looking him over.

“Yeah,” he spoke finally, mostly to himself. “You ever been to war?”

“No,” Matt said.

“Yeah? Then don’t talk about it.” Matt could almost hear the smile slide off of his face.

Matt rolled his eyes once he remembered the man couldn’t see him.

“I've seen some fights,” Matt responded.

“Sure you have.”

“Well, I almost had you beat,” Matt bit back

The man just shook his head and sighed again. “You talk about trading hands on a rooftop. I'm talking about shit, okay? Shit that you ain't been in.”

“I know one thing.”

“What's that?” The Punisher asked.

“War changes people… Sometimes they see things they can't unsee. Come home to find home's not there anymore. It changed,” Matt said. “Or maybe they did.”

Matt could hear the man blow out a breath, probably nodding his head in acknowledgement of the statement.

“Fair enough,” the man admitted begrudgingly.

“I'm just saying, I know it can be hard,” Matt continued.

“Do you? You know it can be ‘hard’?,” the man bristled.

“You run around this city in a pair of little boy's pajamas and a mask. You go home at night, right? Take that mask off, maybe you think it wasn't you who did those things, maybe it was somebody else. Well, see, soldiers we don't wear masks, yeah? We don't get that privilege. We-“

The man was on a roll. Apparently, he wanted to do some digging of his own. Well, Matt wasn’t gonna let him get that far.

“You know what I think?” It was Matt’s turn to interrupt.

“What's that?”

“You're still at war.” They were almost talking entirely over each other at this point.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” the man said, waving his hand through the air dismissively. “So, you charge by the hour, doc, or what?”

Matt just exhaled heavily and dropped his head. They both took turns breathing heavily before Matt spoke again.

“Why am I here, man?” he asked tiredly.

“Everything you do out there in the streets, it doesn't work. Did you know that?”

“Oh, and what you're doing is better?” Matt scoffed.

“What I do, I just do. It's out of necessity.”

“Come on. You know you're not the only one, right?” Matt laughed. “Who did you lose? Huh? Was it someone you loved?” Matt asked, clearly being insincere.

“Well, boo-hoo. Let me tell you something, buddy. Everybody's lost someone. Doesn't mean you have to do this,” he spat.

“Well, loss doesn't work the same for everybody.”

“Yeah, that's right. It's clearly not working for you,” Matt sneered.

“Maybe not… We don't get to pick the things that fix us. Make us whole. Make us feel purpose,” the man said. “My moment of clarity? It came from the strangest of places.” The man sounded… wistful?

“What kind of name is ‘The Devil of Hell's Kitchen’, anyway? I mean, really?” the man laughed, returning to his usual gruff state.

“I didn’t ask for that name,” Matt said after a beat.

“I'm sorry, I don't see you running from it,” the man said, sounding surprisingly childish.

“I don't do this to hurt people,” Matt said.

“Yeah, so what is that, just a job perk?”

“Well, at least I don't kill anyone.”

“Is that why you think you're better than me?” the man chuckled mockingly. “Is that why you think you're a big hero?”

“It doesn't matter what I think or what I am. People don't have to die,” Matt said.

“Oh, come on. You believe that?”

“I believe it's not my call. And it’s not yours either.”

“Somebody ask you to put on that costume or you take it upon yourself?” the man nearly yelled before taking a second to calm down, if only so that no one would hear them.

He muttered to himself before stomping over to Matt and crouching down in front of him.

“You know what I think of you, hero?” he asked sternly, only inches from Matt’s face. “I think you're a half-measure. I think you're a man who can't finish the job. I think that you're a coward,” he piled on.

“You know the one thing that you just can't see?” he questioned. “You're one bad day away from being me.”

That last statement hung in the air for what felt like a full minute before Matt even thought to respond. Too lost in the way the man seemed to be totally sincere in his ideology.

Whatever Matt was going to say was interrupted by the sounds of keys jangling. The doorknob to the rooftop jiggled several times.

“Shit,” someone muttered, voice muffled behind the closed door.

“Fuck,” Matt breathed. “Someone's coming.”

“Well, shit,” the man laughed. “Guess I'd better make a run for it.”

“Hey, don't hurt him,” Matt begged.

“Yeah?” he smiled. “Let's hope he doesn't give me a reason to.”

The man stood up just as the rooftop entrance creaked open.

“What's all that noise?” an old man said loudly into the night. He quickly shined his flashlight in front of him. “If it's you damned kids again, I swear I'm callin' the cops!”

“I'll say this once,” the man whispered. “You make one sound, and I'll open his head up all over this roof.”

Matt faced off with the man briefly before nodding reluctantly, flashing him a wide, petulant smile. The man’s heartbeat sped up a bit before going back to normal. He turned and walked toward the door.

“Hello...? Ah! What the fuck!” he yelled when the Punisher appeared in front of him out of nowhere.

“Sorry about that, sir,” the Punisher told the old man. He bent down, retrieved the flashlight the old man had dropped, and handed it to him. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Who the hell are you?” the old man asked.

“Frank. Frank Castle,” the man replied.

Matt’s heart stopped. He hadn’t been listening that intently, but it seemed like the man’s heartbeat had remained steady. It sounded like he was telling the truth.

Matt reeled. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

“What are you doing up here, Frank?” the old man asked.

“Well, the truth is, um…” ‘Frank’ spoke slowly, clearly making this shit up as he went along. Just like he had been doing when he said that name, Matt hoped.

“I'm pretty sure that this here roof, right here, this is the last patch of real estate in the entire goddamn United States where a man can just have a little peace, be by himself, and have a smoke.”

The old man took his time responding. Probably looking over the strange man making all that noise on his rooftop. “Never seen you around,” he said skeptically.

“Yeah, no. I'm, uh, in town just visiting my crazy sister.” The man’s heartbeat stuttered. He was lying this time.

“Betty in 2B?” the old man asked.

“I see you've had the pleasure,” Frank laughed.

“Can't say I blame you,” the old man said. “My wife's the same. Made me quit a long time ago.”

Matt tuned out the rest of the conversation. He needed to think.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. There could be more than one Frank Castle in New York. But the man was telling the truth when he said he had been a soldier once upon a time.

And after they’d broken up, Matt had heard from Frank’s mother that he had ended up following his dream of joining the Marines.

What the fuck was happening?

“You know, curse of a soldier,” he heard the man say, as if on cue.

“Ain't that the truth,” the old man responded.

“You serve?”

“'Nam, 3rd Marine Division.”

“Fighting 3rd, huh?” Frank asked. Matt could hear the smile in his voice. It sounded genuine.

It all started to seem so obvious. He couldn’t quite make sense of it, but this man was really starting to remind him of his Frank. The way he walked, his rock-solid shoulders something Frank had worn confidently long before the military would have drilled its rules and procedures into him. Even the way he talked, that rich gravel Matt had always loved to feel rumbling through him as he rested his head against Frank’s chest. Or maybe Matt was just going crazy.

He hadn’t seen Frank ever since that horrible night. Several weeks after the accident, when Matt had finally started to feel like himself, he’d begun asking for Frank.

His father told him that Frank hadn’t been by, probably too guilty to come see him. Matt never totally believed him, but the small part of him that did blamed Jack for bullying Frank the way he had. It had driven a wedge between him and his father, deep enough that they hadn’t been close to one another for years. Even when Jack was taken from him, he and Matt had been on anything but great terms.

Loud laughter interrupted his thoughts.

“All right, son,” the old man told Frank. He was finally retreating back to his apartment.

“Hey, Marine!“ Frank yelled. “Semper Fi.”

This was too much. Matt was speechless when Frank finally returned to the spot right in front of him.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” Frank chuckled. “Not as scrappy as I thought you were.”

Matt sat silently for a long while. He inhaled shakily.

“‘Frank.’ Is that your real name?” Matt asked quietly.

The man just shook his head and chuckled. He turned away from Matt and went back to his corner to finish cleaning his guns.

“Frank Castle,” Matt said quietly. “Is that your name or not?’

“What’s it to you?” The man said, opening a small container of cleaning solution.

“Is that your name or not?” Matt nearly yelled. “Frank Castle? Yes or no?” Matt panted, getting more anxious by the second.

The man stopped cleaning. Matt assumed he was staring at him now.

‘What’s it. To ya?” the man asked again. Slowly, deliberately.

Matt’s breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He breathed heavily a few more times.

“Untie me,” he said unsteadily.

The man just scoffed and resumed cleaning his gun.

“Untie me!” Matt did yell this time.

The man threw the gun he was cleaning to his side and pulled another one from the back of his pants. He stood and marched right up to Matt, pressing the barrel of the gun to his helmet.

“Do that one more time,” the man muttered. “Do it one more time and I promise next time I’m gonna crack the head of yours wide open.”

Matt just looked up at him, emotion welling behind the eyes of his mask. This couldn’t be his Frank. The man in front of him was a monster.

Of all the futures Matt had imagined for Frank, he never could’ve seen this one coming. It just couldn’t be. If the gun pressed to his forehead didn’t kill him, the idea that Frank had fallen this low definitely would.

Just the thought of having one of his worst fears confirmed almost kept Matt from asking his next question. But he had to know. He did his best to keep his chin from quivering when he spoke.

“Take my mask off,” he said, trying and failing to keep the emotion from his voice. The gun pressed against his head faltered. Silence, stretched between them for a couple of seconds before Frank spoke up.

“What?” The man asked finally.

Matt swallowed and forced his lips to move before he lost his nerve. “Take off my helmet.”

The gun remained pressed to his helmet. Frank muttered to himself quietly.

“What’s the matter with you, man?” Frank asked, confusion clear in his voice. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to pull, but…”

“I’m not- “Matt sucked in a breath, “I’m not pulling anything. I swear,” he said.

“I swear to God, I’ll open up your fucking head right now if this is some kinda trick!” Frank yelled, clearly trying to intimidate Matt into telling the truth, not knowing that was totally unnecessary at this point.

“Frank, please!” Matt yelled right back, a spark of anger flashing in him briefly before he deflated once again. “Just do it. Take it off,” Matt begged softly.

The man slowly withdrew his gun. He placed it back in the waistband of his pants and looked down at Matt skeptically.

“If you try anything…”

“I won’t,” Matt reassured him. “Please.”

The man crouched down in front of him and slowly ran his hands up both sides of the mask.

“How the fuck do you- “

“It’s two latches. One on each side, by the ears,” Matt said.

The man grunted in acknowledgement. He finally found the latches and unlocked them. He gripped the helmet and slowly slid it off of Matt’s face.

The man held the helmet in his hands and said nothing. Matt could only guess that he was staring at him impassively as he felt the man’s eyes roaming over his face. Then his heartbeat spiked.

He dropped the helmet and stumbled backwards a few steps.

Matt swallowed thickly. A few tears rolled down his cheeks. He was right. Matt wished more than anything that he wasn’t, but he was. This was his Frank.

“My name,” Matt’s voice shook, “is Matthew Murdock-”

The man- Frank- choked. Matt could hear his heartbeat speed up exponentially.

“Is your name Frank Castle?” he asked wetly, already sure of the answer to the question before he asked. The tears were flowing freely now.

Frank breathed shallowly as he continued to stare at Matt. “No,” he said quietly, mostly to himself. “No, no, no, no…”

Frank stood and started to back away slowly, before shaking his head and dropping to his knees back in front of Matt.

“Frank,” Matt whispered, not sure what else to say.

“Red,” Frank whispered in disbelief. He reached up tentatively and rested his hand against the side of Matt’s face.

They were both crying now, Frank staring into Matt’s sightless eyes.

“Frank,” Matt started. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Frank just stuttered, unexpectedly flustered. It was like part of him was suddenly back in that hall in the hospital, staring at Matt’s unconscious body through a plate glass window; and the other part was here, staring at him chained to this rooftop beaten half to hell. And it was all Frank’s fault. Again.

Frank started muttering to himself. He backed away from Matt once again, sinking into a crouching position several feet away from him. He was raking his hands back and forth across his scalp.

“No, no, no. Not again,” he said to himself.

“… Frank?” Matt asked worriedly. “Frank, please-“

“Not again, Red. Not again, not again,” Frank said. He was crying in earnest now and it was starting to frighten Matt.

“Frank, please try to calm down,” Matt said, sniffling. He was going to have to stay calm or they were both gonna lose it.

Frank just kept murmuring to himself and crying; his heartbeat was out of control.

“Frank, if you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Matt said.

That got Frank’s attention. He stopped muttering and fell backward into a sitting position. He rested his head on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“That’s what I’m gonna do, huh, Red?” he asked, stuttering just a little at the use of his old nickname for Matt. “I’m gonna hurt myself?”

Matt didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how Frank would react if he gave him the wrong response. So, he just waited.

“Well, what about you, Red?” Frank said into his knees. “What about-” he choked, starting to cry once again. “What about everyone else I hurt?”

“Don’t worry about them right now,” Matt said. “Those men… they- “

“I’m not talking about them,” Frank snapped, lifting his head briefly to look at Matt.

“Who are you talking about, Frank?” Matt asked. “Is there someone else? If there is, we need to- “

“I’m not talking about those pieces of shit, Red!” Frank yelled. “Fuck!” He slammed his fists into the ground. “Not again…” he whimpered, still rocking back and forth.

Matt wasn’t sure what else to say.

Frank looked up at him. Matt could tell from the way his heartbeat faltered that he must be taking in all damage he did to Matt’s face.

“I’m fine, Frank.”

“No, you’re not, Red. How could you be? After I- “

He stopped mid-sentence, remembering all of the fights the Punisher had with Daredevil.

“Your head,” he whispered, as if just realizing what he’d done. Or who he’d done it to.

“I’m fine, Frank,” Matt said softly but earnestly. “I’m fine, really.”

“I can’t believe I- “Frank was talking to himself now.

“Frank, please just untie me,” Matt said.

“I did it… I did it again. I- “Frank cried to himself. For a moment he seemed unaware that Matt was still there.

Matt was about to beg Frank to untie him again, when he’d suddenly become aware of a faint ticking sound coming from somewhere close to them. He could feel the slight distortion of the air, the faint sparks of electricity buzzing all around them. All sensations he’d come to associate with explosives.

“Frank. Frank!” Matt repeated desperately when Frank didn’t initially respond. They’d have to deal with this crisis later.

“Listen to me, there is a bomb somewhere. Somewhere close,” Matt panted. “We need to leave.”

Frank remained on the ground, but he stopped rocking back and forth and looked up at Matt in confusion. “How did you know there were- “

“It doesn’t matter, Frank! We need to go.”

Frank shook his head before resting it back against his knees. “We’re safe, Red,” he muttered.

“No, Frank. You don’t understand, it’s- “

“They’re my bombs,” Frank interrupted him tiredly. “I set them at the- at the bar across the street… Hell’s Angels HQ.”

So, that’s where they were. Hell’s Angel’s unofficial meeting spot. The old bar the gang had long ago claimed as their own was one of their many headquarters in the city.

Matt panicked. Frank was about to kill who knows how many more people.

“Frank, please untie me,” Matt asked frantically. “You can’t kill all of those people,” he reasoned.

Frank stopped rocking and slowly looked up at Matt. “You serious right now?” he asked.

“Frank, it doesn’t matter what they did,” Matt said. He heard Frank’s breath stutter but he continued. “You can’t just blow them all to hell.”

Frank stared at Matt, dumbfounded.

“It doesn’t matter what they- “he repeated softly, incredulously, still staring at Matt. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Red.”

“Frank, they’re people! Human beings,” he implored. “They deserve a second chance. They don’t deserve whatever war you’re waging against the city.”

Frank just kept staring at Matt, heart beating rapidly.

“What happened to you, Frank?”

Frank stood up and stomped past Matt and toward the ledge of the building, speaking harshly the whole way.

“Those assholes down there,” he said with an exaggerated point toward the bar, “they happened to me, Red! They happened!”

Frank was crying again, but now he was more angry than anything else. “ _I_ happened,” he said quietly, looking down at the two men standing guard outside of the club.

“Frank, just unite me.”

“No.”

“ _No_?” Matt asked, incredulous.

“No,” Frank reiterated, looking down at the street.

“This shit,” he said, gesturing around himself, at the situation they were both in. “This shit is gonna follow me wherever I go. Least I can do is make sure these old fucks don’t let it splatter on anybody else.”

“What are you doing, Frank?” Matt asked.

Frank ignored him.

“Hey, assholes!” Frank yelled, talking instead to the guards below them. “Up here, you fucking pussies!”

“Stop it, Frank. What are you- “

“Shut up,” Frank cut him off and resumed yelling at the gangsters. “Come on, you pieces of shit! Come up here, I got somethin’ for ya!”

Matt could hear the guard’s enraged barks to the other men inside the bar. Soon the street below started to fill with several angry heartbeats.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Frank muttered. Matt heard him ruffle through one of his pockets under what sounded like several layers of clothing. He pulled out a small electronic device and clenched it in his fist.

It took Matt all of one second to figure out what it was. The detonator.

“Frank, don’t!” he yelled.

Frank slammed his thumb onto the button. The bar went up in flames. It sounded like the entire world had exploded to Matt.

The men below them stumbled around in the street, letting loose blood-curdling screams as their skin burned off of their bones. Several heartbeats raised to unimaginable speeds before stopping completely.

The whole time Frank hadn’t moved. He remained rooted to his spot at the ledge, watching the devastation. His heartbeat having returned to its initial steady pace.

Matt just turned his face away from the heat and closed in on himself as best he could.

A few of the men’s motorcycles caught flame as well. The leather and metal sizzled and bubbled as Frank turned away from his mess and walked slowly back to Matt.

“That shit right there, Red. That is justice,” he said, looming over Matt.

Matt turned toward Frank, utter shock written all over his face. How could the kid he’d fallen in love with have grown into the monster standing in front of him? He heard Frank’s heartbeat falter as they faced off with each other.

Suddenly several more explosions came from the remains of the bar. The motorcycles had blown up now, sending more smoldering debris into the air.

“Shit!” Frank yelled, throwing his body on top of Matt’s. He covered their heads as the debris rained down around them. Matt listened as flaming pieces of metal landed around him, praying none would hurt him or Frank too badly.

When the second round of explosions finally ended, Frank eased himself off of Matt. He framed Matt’s face with his hands and looked him over quickly.  
“You alright?” he asked softy.

Matt’s response was a guttural grunt. He drew his head back and head-butted Frank with all the strength he could muster. Frank crumpled to the ground in front of him.

As Frank lay unconscious across his lap, Matt realized that whatever happened to Frank, whatever was wrong with him, was way more serious than anything he could’ve imagined. Frank was a serial killer. A mass murderer. He needed to know what happened to him. After that, he would take Frank to the authorities, so that he could get the help he needed. For Frank’s sake, and his city’s.

Matt listened to his breathing for a moment before he reached toward Frank’s waistband, going for the gun he’d tucked there earlier. He grunted, reaching as far as he could down Frank’s back before finally retrieving the weapon.

He weighed the gun in his hand before placing it underneath the lowest set of chains wrapped around his body and aiming it upward towards the sky. He pulled the trigger; the bullet slicing through the chains and finally setting Matt free.

The chain links tinkled to the ground around him. He gingerly stood to his feet, panting as he flung the gun off the side of the building.

Just as he’d decided his next move was to carry Frank off of the roof and down the stairs, he heard the revving engines of several more motorcycles.

He stood still as he listened further. More Angels had come to the crime scene, much faster than the police had. Probably here to get revenge on whoever had done this. On Frank.

“He’s… He’s up there,” Matt heard one of Frank’s victims whisper to an Angel who’d just arrived, right before his heart gave out.

“To the roof! Up there!” the Angel yelled.

Matt listened as at least ten more angels stormed the building they were on top of. He was gearing up for the fight when he remembered Frank, his heartbeat slow and breathing quiet as his unconscious body sprawled out behind Matt.

Matt lifted him as quickly as he could and moved him to a far corner of the rooftop, hopefully far enough out of sight that the mob of Angels quickly approaching their location wouldn’t notice him. He hid Frank as best he could.

Just as he’d replaced his helmet from where it had dropped earlier, the rooftop entrance flew open. Several Angels flooded the space almost immediately.

Matt took a deep breath to steady himself, then charged into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i hope i did these characters justice. lmk if you enjoyed it 🥺
> 
> hmu at @maniskordaze on twitter and tumblr!


	2. Killing Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That seemed to be how things worked for people like him, like Frank. They got something beautiful. They loved it and they cherished it with every fiber of their being, as much as they could for as long as they could. And then they lost it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is set in an alternate version of S2E3 of Daredevil. Matt and Frank meet, except this time, it's a reunion instead of an introduction.
> 
> -
> 
> This chapter is told almost entirely from Matt’s perspective, but does switch to Frank’s briefly during certain sections.

Matt dove into the sea of Angels. He charged forward, dodging one of the gangster’s swinging chains and picking up a metal rod that had blown off of one of the bikes and landed on the rooftop. He launched it toward the Angel, the metal piece ricocheting off his head and back into Matt’s hand before he crumpled to ground in front of him.

Matt dodged a set of blows from a second man before he threw the rod again. It landed directly against the man’s temple, before bouncing between a group of three other Angels. They hit the ground unconscious as Matt moved onto his next victim.

Matt grabbed the arm of an Angel as he threw what had to be the slowest punch of all time. He jammed his elbow down as hard as he could into the Angel’s own elbow, smiling as he heard bone snap and the man’s subsequent wail. He then yanked the man’s arm, pulling him over his own shoulder and throwing him on top of an Angel who had been aiming a gun at Matt from behind.

As they crashed into a pile behind him, Matt turned his attention to the next thug, who was charging toward him at full speed. But as the man neared him, Matt jumped into the air. He rose over the man, launching off of his back and directly toward another Angel.

Matt tackled the gangster, the man screaming in pain as he was forced to the ground. Matt straddled him and delivered a set of blows that left him gurgling in a pool of blood.

He somersaulted forward, rolling quickly toward another Angel that hadn’t even seen him coming. He extended his legs and trapped the Angel’s ankles between his own. He then rolled quickly to the side, slamming the man to the ground. Matt heard the satisfying sound of his jaw shattering against concrete.

Matt grunted as he rolled out of the way of another Angel’s swinging chain. It slammed heavily to the ground right where he’d been crouching next to the unconscious Angel only a moment ago.

Matt grabbed the chain on its next swing midair, snatching it away from the Angel. He whipped it back towards the man’s face, successfully breaking his nose with the weight of the metal. He screamed as he clutched at his face briefly before pulling his hands away just a second too late.

As he looked past his fingers, he saw Matt running toward him as fast as he could. The Angel barely had time to brace himself before Matt launched into a kick, placing both of his booted feet against the man’s chest.

He went sprawling backwards and landed flat on the rooftop. Matt landed on his own back before springing right back to his feet. As he rose, he came face to face with the barrel of an Angel’s sawed-off shotgun.

Matt stood dumbly in front of the man. The Angel smiled, resting his finger on the trigger right before his head snapped back from the force of a bullet entering his skull.

Matt turned around sharply, a familiar heartbeat overtaking his senses. It was now only slightly quicker than it had been when he was lying unconscious just a few moments ago.

“Frank- “Matt started angrily, ready to berate Frank all over again for killing yet another person.

“Behind you, Red!” Frank yelled, cutting him off as he faced an Angel of his own.

Matt jumped in the air and kicked the oncoming Angel square in the face. Then he reached down and grabbed a loose brick lying near his feet. He threw it at Frank’s hand as he raised his gun toward his next victim. Frank cursed as the gun went skittering across the rooftop.

He grunted angrily, casting a glance at Matt before dodging a punch from the Angel he’d planned on killing. Frank gave the man a devastating right hook instead of the bullet he’d been saving for him. The Angel fell to his knees in front of him and Frank gripped the man’s hair, punching him as hard as he could before letting him drop to the ground.

He turned to find Matt trapped between two lowlives. One had Red’s back pressed against his chest, an arm wrapped around his throat and his arms pinned behind his back.

Another Angel stood in front of him, brandishing a knife. He spit blood onto the ground and smiled. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that,” he said lowly.

Frank took off toward them. He watched as Red head-butted the guy holding him back and then kicked his feet out from under him, effectively breaking free just in time to stop the other guy from gutting him. He gripped the Angel’s knife by the blade and did his best to keep the weapon from piercing his suit. Blood dripped down his fingers as he held the sharp metal in his hand.

Just as Frank reached them to interrupt their stalemate, the Angel Red had tripped up earlier grabbed Frank’s leg and forced him to the ground.

They rolled around for few moments before Frank trapped the guy under his weight and did his best to throttle him. He heard Matt scream and his head snapped up.

Matt had snatched the blade out of the Angel’s grip and thrown it out of sight. Then he and the Angel started going at it hand to hand.

The knife skittered toward Frank and his own opponent, landing right next the Angel he had pinned to the ground. The thug reached out and grabbed it but Frank gripped his wrist and forced his arm back to the ground before he got the chance to use it.

He was using all his strength to keep the guy pinned, when the Angel kneed him right in the balls. Frank groaned and loosened his grip only slightly, but it was enough for the Angel to break free. He shoved Frank’s hand off of him, then jammed the knife directly into his abdomen. Frank fell forward with a quiet gasp.

The Angel bucked Frank off of him, then immediately rose to his feet and stood over him for a few seconds. He reached down and ripped the blade out of Frank, forcing him to scream out at the pain it caused.

The Angel smiled at the noise, and then drew back his arm to finish the job. But Frank saw a brick whiz through the air and hit the Angel square in the forehead. He fell back and hit the rooftop with a wordless thud.

Matt rushed over in the brick’s wake and kneeled next to him.

“Frank! Frank, are you okay?”

“M’fine, Red,” he lied, groaning as he forced himself to sit up. Red didn't seem convinced but his attention shifted immediately to something more important than his injury. He was staring into the distance when he spoke again.

“The police are on their way. Maybe five minutes out,” he guessed. He turned back to Frank. “We need to go.”

“How the fuck did you know that?” Frank asked, his voice sounded strained as Matt helped him up.

“Just come on. We need to go,” Matt said once Frank was standing and leaning against his shoulder. “My apartment’s not that close and we need to hurry.”

“I know a place we can go,” Frank breathed, doing his best to hide the extent of his injury and failing miserably.

The knife wound was bleeding freely now and he was getting increasingly wobbly on his feet. “This way,” he nodded his head to the left and Matt steered them both toward the edge of the rooftop.

They reached a fire escape running down the side of the building. He lifted Frank over the ledge and lowered him onto the rusty landing beneath them. Frank grunted as his feet hit the ground. He favored his side for a brief moment, but quickly grabbed the railing for balance and hobbled down the rest of the stairs without complaint. Matt hopped over the ledge and followed him.

Once they reached the last level, Matt flipped from the stairway and onto the ground. Then he jumped up and lowered the ladder the rest of the way so Frank could get down, too.

Frank didn’t look impressed by his acrobatics. He just leaned more of his weight on the railing and moved toward the ladder tiredly but as fast as he could manage.

He lowered himself down the ladder and landed heavily on the ground, but Matt caught him before he could fall. Frank was starting to look worse and worse. His shirt and even some of the coat he wore were both soaked in blood and he was looking more out of it than before. Plus, the police were now only a block away.

“This way,” Frank urged Matt, swinging his head to the left of them. “It’s not too far from here.”

Matt didn’t hesitate as he followed Frank’s directions, making sure to keep his senses sharp so that they could avoid anyone still out on the town at this time of night.

After a few minutes of stumbling through several back alleys and a few deserted streets, they arrived outside of a graveyard. Matt turned to Frank in confusion as he pulled the nearly unconscious man past the fence and into the sea of tombstones.

“Is this the right place?” Matt asked skeptically.

Frank just nodded then gestured again with his head. “That way,” he exhaled tiredly, pointing toward a tree that looked like it could provide them ample cover.

Once they reached it, they both sank heavily to the ground. Matt was happy to lean Frank’s heavy body against the tree and off of his shoulders.

He listened intently for anyone near their location. There wasn’t a soul in the graveyard yet, but he heard police cruisers closing in on the rooftop they’d just left.

It wouldn’t be long before they swept the surrounding areas, but Matt figured he should still wait until the crime scene was a little less active before they made their escape.

“We shouldn’t have to be here long. Once they’ve stopped searching the area and focus on locking down the rooftop, we can to make it back to my apartment,” he said.

Frank just sighed heavily and rested his hand lightly over his wound. “Nah, Red. You should go. Leave me here,” he said tiredly. He looked like he was two seconds away from passing out.

Matt took off his mask and rushed over to him, framing his face with his hands. “Stay with me, Frank. Please,” Matt said urgently, lightly slapping him.

Frank reached up and stilled his hands by resting his on top of one of Matt’s.

“I told ya m’not goin anywhere, Red,” he said softly. “But you should. I’m past savin’.”

Matt sighed. “That’s not true, Frank. No one’s past saving.”

Frank just stared up at the sky. He completely ignored the last sentence out of Matt’s mouth, instead paying him what he assumed was a compliment of the highest honor in Frank’s mind.

“You'd have made a hell of a Marine, Red,” he smiled stupidly.

Now Matt was really worried. Frank was losing way too much blood. He needed medical attention now.

“Just hold on a little while longer, Frank,” Matt said. “I’m gonna get you some help.”

Frank gripped his wrist dangerously, suddenly way more alert than he was only moments ago. “No hospitals,” he grunted lowly.

Matt didn’t try to pull away from him. “You’re right. No hospitals,” Matt said in his most calming tone. “I have a friend who can help us out.”

Frank loosened his fingers, but didn’t let go of Matt. “You trust him?” he asked slowly.

“Her. And yes.”

Frank hummed. Then there was a stretch of silence between them. “She your girlfriend?”

Matt hoped Frank couldn’t see his blush under the limited light in the graveyard.

“No,” Matt sighed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Frank hummed again. His head started to droop and Matt swooped in to lift it back up, removing his torn gloves and framing Frank’s face with his hands once again.

“Let’s keep talking, alright?”

Frank hummed again, but he smiled a little this time. “Sure, Red. What’d ya wanna talk about?”

There was another stretch of silence as Matt worked up the nerve to ask his next question. He didn’t know if it was the right time to ask, but he also thought this might be the best time to get an honest answer out of Frank.

“What you said earlier,” Matt asked tentatively. “About the people you hurt. What did you mean?”

When he got nothing in response, he jostled Frank’s gently. “Frank, I-“

“I heard you, Red,” Frank said, shaking Matt’s hands off of his face. Matt was only a little stunned at the sudden change in attitude, but he sat back and gave Frank a little more space.

A full minute passed before Frank sighed heavily and cleared his throat.

“You know, you gotta cross the ocean and go fight,” he began almost suddenly, his words slurring a bit. “You see, whole time you're thinking you're gonna be scared, right? But then, you're not.”

Matt listened, all though he didn’t have the slightest clue what Frank was talking about. He hoped Frank wasn’t going to start rattling off a bunch of nonsense and war stories until he passed out.

“See, that part of it was always easy for me. Killing,” he rambled. “Even watching my buddies die, it just... it didn't mean nothing.”

He didn’t stop at the shocked expression Matt wore, didn’t even seem to notice it. There was a hint of something strange in his tone, and his voice sounded a bit off; like he was farther away from Matt than he actually was, maybe refusing to look at him as he spoke. Why, Matt didn’t know.

It was hard for Matt to guess exactly how Frank was feeling right now. He imagined it would still be impossible to decipher even if he could see the man’s face. The thought scared him.

“The first time I got scared was on a plane on the way home,” Frank continued, oblivious to Matt’s long stream of thoughts. “I kept thinking God was gonna pull the rug out from under us, you know? Shit, that's his kind of funny.”

The laugh that followed warmed Matt a little bit, despite the bleak situation. It reminded him of a different time and a different Frank. He was still having trouble accepting the fact that this man was the same kid he knew all those years ago.

“But the plane landed safe and we were home. Driving through traffic,” Frank continued. “Yeah, you pass fast food and donut shops and all that greasy shit. It's the shit you fought to protect, right?” he chuckles to himself.

”And then the car stops. We were outside her school,” Frank said. “I get to her classroom. She's in there but she's got no idea. She's got no idea that Daddy's home.”

Matt stopped breathing. There was no mistaking now that Frank was referring to a child. _His_ child; a daughter. Matt barely had time to process the information before Frank kept going.

“I walk in, these kids, they're not even studying, they're doing some kind of yoga. You know?“ he laughed again, oblivious to how Matt’s world seems to have stopped turning.

“She's there. She's doing her poses, you know. She's bending and, you know, she's moving. She looks like a flower.”

Frank stutters, his emotion seemed to have finally caught up with him. Matt almost loses it at hearing the break in his voice but he holds it together. If he was honest, he was more than afraid of what else Frank had to say but he couldn’t stop himself from listening.

“And, you know, you can't even understand it, you know, how does something that beautiful… How does that come from me, you know? And she looks up and she sees me. And I see her.”

Frank stops speaking for what feels like a full minute. When he starts, Matt can tell that more than a few tears have slipped loose.

“By God, that's real. That's real, Red,” he says. “In an instant, she's across that classroom floor, she's in my arms. She's squeezing me so tight, I swear I was gonna bust a rib, you know? We just stayed there like that; we're holding each other.”

Frank’s smiling through the tears now. “The teacher, she's filming the whole thing on her phone, you know, she's gonna put it on YouTube or some shit,” he laughed.

“She can't hold the thing steady, because, you know, she's bawling so hard, and the kids are all wailing, you know? They're screaming. And me?,” Frank scoffed, blowing out a breath quickly.

“Shit, I'm the worst of all. I'm a- I'm a rubber-face clown, I cried so hard.”

The smile in Frank’s voice is gone almost as quickly as it came. He’s doing his best not to start crying seriously but it’s a losing battle. Matt’s own eyes are filled with tears as he listens to Frank’s heart breaking.

“But not my baby. Not my girl.” He takes a breath to compose himself. “You know, she's my girl. She's… she’s not crying, she's holding me up. My girl, she's keeping me on my feet.”

Frank swallows loudly, unconsciously shifting positions so that he’s leaning more comfortably against the tree. “She says, ‘I knew it, Daddy. I knew it.’

“And then we go home,” he says somberly. “Wife, the boy. Place is the exact same. It's like it was just holding its breath waiting for me to get back, you know? Then it hit me.”

It hit Matt, too. Matt had been listening intently to Frank’s heartbeat and it hadn’t faltered once. He wasn’t sure if he totally believed the man in his delirious state, but Frank seemed to have sobered up the more he spoke to Matt. He was telling the truth. Frank had an entire fucking family.

Matt wants desperately to interrupt now, but he doesn’t let one of the million questions floating through his mind slip past his lips. He needs to hear what else Frank has to say.

“I was just tired, you know?” he sighed. “You ever been tired, Red?”

Matt wiped away one of the tears that was running down his cheek, then nodded. He didn’t really trust his voice at this point, but he spoke up anyway. “Yeah,” he said softly.

“So, you know,” he said sadly, as if confirming a suspicion he’d been holding.

“It's just- I couldn't do nothing, you know? I couldn't take my wife to bed. Ball with the boy.”

He sucked his teeth quietly, beating himself up over the mistakes he’d made for probably the hundredth time. Matt knew the feeling well.

“Shit, I was so tired, I couldn't even drink a goddamn beer, you know? But not her. My girl was up.”

The smile wasn’t in Frank’s voice this time. He was probably too tired, too heartbroken to even conjure anything close to a sneer at this point. But that note of pride was something he couldn’t hide, even when it was tucked under so many layers of pain.

“See, she wanted me to, uh,” he stuttered once again before he regained something resembling control over his voice.

“She wanted me to tuck her in. She outgrew it, she knew it, but she didn't care. She wanted it. She had that book. Her favorite book was out on the pillows.”

“One Batch, Two Batch Penny and Dime,” Frank almost whispered.

Matt dropped his head, unable to bear the increasingly disturbing details of the story. Frank continued, the tears making his voice shake even more than it had been before.

“I read her that book every night before this shit,” he gestured at himself vaguely.

“I read it every single night, but, see, that was over now because Daddy's home. She looked at me and she begged me,” he choked on the words. Frank was all but sobbing now.

“She begged. She begged. And I said, ‘No,” he said harshly, continuing to beat himself up over his torn past.

“Daddy's too tired, see. But I'll… I'll read to you tomorrow night. I'll read to you tomorrow night, I promise.”

There was a heavy silence in the air, the only sound was Matt’s quiet sniffling as he waited for Frank to finish.

“Never thought that for her there wasn’t gonna be any tomorrow,” Frank said all too calmly.

Matt knew this was coming. He hated himself for it, but he knew it. That seemed to be how things worked for people like him, like Frank. They got something beautiful. They loved it and they cherished it with every fiber of their being, as much as they could for as long as they could. And then they lost it. Matt knew this, but it hurt more than he thought it would when Frank continued.

“The last time I'd see her, I'd be holding her lifeless body in my arms,” he said. He wiped a few loose tears roughly. More like slapped them away, as if he was punishing himself for letting himself reveal as much as he had.

Frank wasn’t sure what it meant, his sudden openness. And he sure as hell didn’t want to spend time trying to figure it out. Not right now. Now he just needed to get it out. Get the words out so that they could live someplace other than inside of him for a change.

He felt the pain of his family’s loss, he wore the full weight of it every day. But it got heavy. It got really fucking heavy. And he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it seemed like, right now, his body just couldn’t take it. It had to share the load. And this man, Matthew Murdock; his Red, was the only person on earth that he thought he could share it with.

“Meat was spilling out of her,” he let the words tumble out before he could stop himself. “The place where her face used to be.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. Once, twice, until he felt strong enough to speak again. “I think I'm done, Red,” he breathed out slowly. “I think I'm done.”

“Frank, I-“ Red said quietly before his voice changed to something frantic. “Frank? Frank!”

Red sounded all distorted, like his voice was coming through one of those old walkie-talkies he’d used a few years back in Afghanistan. Except his voice wasn’t shouting orders at him left and right, screaming at him to go blow some kid’s Goddamn head off.

Now, don’t get him wrong, Red was still yelling. Or something pretty close to it, for fuck’s sake. Whatever he was doing, the man was way too fucking loud for Frank’s liking. But his voice didn’t sound nothing like his commanders. As much as Red yelled, everything Frank heard sounded closer to the soothing rumble Red used to use with him all those years back. Before everything.

“Frank, get up. Come on, that’s it,” Matt sounded pleased, even though Frank didn’t remember moving. He just wanted to sleep. So, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i hope i did these characters justice. lmk if you enjoyed it 🥺
> 
> hmu at @maniskordaze on twitter and tumblr!


	3. The Good Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most people ran from their pain. Either in an attempt to heal from it or to avoid doing the work it took to actually heal. But Frank didn’t look like he was running in either direction. He seemed to be living in it. That pain was what fueled him to keep going. Where he was headed, Matt wasn’t sure. And he was afraid that he wouldn’t like the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is set in an alternate version of S2E3 of Daredevil. Matt and Frank meet, except this time, it's a reunion instead of an introduction.
> 
> *
> 
> So, this chapter was originally supposed to be inspired by the song “The Good Side” by Troye Sivan, but I’m not quite sure that’s how it ended up. Either way, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Like the previous chapter, this is also told mostly from Matt’s perspective but certain sections are told from Frank’s, as well.

Frank kneeled on his mark, rifle heavy in his arms as he aimed. He didn’t pay any attention to the shitshow unfolding all around him. No, he kept his eye on his section of the perimeter. He was steady as a fucking rock, he told himself despite the slight tremor in his hands. He had to be.

A Goddamned IED had gone off in the middle of a marketplace. Body parts were scattered everywhere. Men, women, and children. Limp, broken bodies splayed out on tabletops and across shelves, so many that he couldn’t even see the fucking floor. They were like dolls, thrown all around Lisa’s bedroom last time he’d been home.

Maria had been trying to get her to pick up after herself, to no avail. The girl was nothing like Junior. It shocked the hell outta him to learn that his boy was the neat-freak of the family. His toys were always in order. Frank supposed the kid had gotten that from him.

Maria. She strolled toward him. Slow and steady. The usual swish in her waist missing this time. No, this time she meant business.

She was holding her belly, same way she had been last time he’d seen her. She looked beautiful. Radiant. Deadly.

“Castle, take the fucking shot!” he heard distantly. Whoever had called him could have been on another fucking planet, as much attention as Frank paid ‘em.

He didn’t fire. How could he? He just watched Maria through his scope as she strolled right up to him, confident as ever.

She met his eyes through the lens before she blew herself to hell. Frank flew backward from the force of the blast. Before he knew it, he was flat on his back, skull smacking into the concrete as he stared up at a sky full of smoke.

He coughed, trying to clear his airways. The world around him was muted. He heard the faint sound of gunfire and the tinny voice of his commander barking orders at him. But one thing was loud and clear.

They were screams. Blood curdling wails. Curt. He had been near Frank when the bomb went off.

He scrambled over to where the screams were loudest. His vision was still a little blurry from the hit he’d taken to his head, but he found his way. He saw a man rolling from side to side in his spot on the ground, clutching at his face. This had to be him.

Frank rushed over to Curt and grabbed him, forcing him to be still. He moved his hands aside and- Fuck. It wasn’t his brother. It was Red.

Suddenly, he was twenty years old again. He felt just as fucking helpless now as he had then. He watched Red scream, two gaping, bloody holes in his face. Right where his eyes should be. Those two beautiful eyes.

Tears streamed down Frank’s face. He could’ve given both Frankie and Lisa a run for their money, the way he was bawling. But he couldn’t move. He just watched as Red howled. Until he finally went silent, body lifeless on the ground in front of him.

***

Frank shot up, blanket pooled around his waist as he sat in the center of Matt’s bed. He was drenched in sweat and his heart was beating out of control. His breathing was coming in short bursts.  
  
Matt was at his side almost instantly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and reaching out to him before he caught himself, his fingers hovering over Frank’s shoulders without quite touching him. He didn’t want to scare Frank or trigger any knee-jerk reactions out of him.  
  
He knew Frank would be disoriented when he finally woke up, but his current state still gave Matt pause. Something seemed a bit off to him.   
  
To anyone else it would have looked like he was sitting impossibly still, but Matt could sense that Frank was practically vibrating. Every muscle in his body was taut, like a rubber band being stretched as far as possible. His fingers were twitching, but at a much slower pace than every other part of his body. It could just be a nervous tic, though Matt didn’t imagine he would have many of those.  
  
Could he have been having a nightmare? A flashback? Or it could just be that he wasn’t sure where he was. He’d never been to Matt’s apartment before and waking up in an unfamiliar setting could set anyone off. Plus, all the blood he lost and the morphine drip Claire had set up had to be clouding his mind a little. He wasn’t sure how Frank would react to the drugs, but it was necessary with all the pain he had to be in.  
  
Frank still hadn’t said a word but Matt could sense that his eyes had landed on him. He could feel them boring holes in his skin with how intensely he had to be staring. Matt figured he should try and calm him down. He withdrew his hands from Frank’s space and spoke lowly.  
  
“Frank? Frank, it’s me Matt,” he said. “Do you know where you are?”  
  
No answer. Frank just kept staring at him, breathing harshly through his nose.  
  
“You’re in my apartment. You’re safe. I brought you here after you passed out in-“ Matt paused briefly at the memories of what Frank had told him earlier in the night, but he pushed them aside so he could focus. “In the graveyard.”  
  
“You were hurt. I brought you back here and a friend of mine patched you up. She’s gone now,” Matt added quickly, when he heard Frank’s heartbeat pick up. “She’s the only person who knows you’re here. No police, no one else knows.”  
  
Frank finally turned away from Matt, dropping his head and nodding almost imperceptibly. “Good,” he grunted.  
  
Matt wanted to breathe the sigh of relief he’d been holding in ever since Frank had awoken, but instead he reached out slowly and placed his hand over Frank’s where it rested on the mattress.   
  
“You’re safe,” he repeated softly.   
  
Frank’s stiffened once he felt Matt’s hand but relaxed a second or two later, so Matt didn’t pull away. Frank’s vitals still seemed fine, and selfishly, Matt decided he needed the small touch even if Frank didn’t.  
  
After a moment, Frank nodded again. He turned his hand over slowly and gripped Matt’s fingers in his own. He squeezed them softly.  
  
“Good,” Frank said quietly. His eyes strayed to Matt’s fingers, hidden beneath his own. “That’s good, Red. Thank you.”  
  
He let Matt’s hand go and pulled his own slowly back toward himself. He lifted it and began to examine the IV in his wrist.  
  
“Morphine,” he said knowingly. “I’d be tempted to take this shit out if it didn’t feel so Goddamned good.”  
  
Matt just smiled at the attempt at humor. He was glad Frank seemed to be doing okay, but he was still reeling at the fact that he had almost lost him tonight. Or what was even crazier, that he had found Frank at all. That after all these years, he was here. In Matt’s apartment. In his bed.   
  
Matt reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the glass of water he’d brought in earlier. He handed it to Frank and listened as he immediately gulped it down.  
  
“So, you’re feeling alright?” Matt asked as Frank drank. “I can adjust the drip if the pain gets too-“  
  
Frank swallowed and let the half full glass rest against the mattress as he gripped it at his side. “No,” he said. “It’s fine, Red. Seriously.”  
  
Matt nodded. Silence stretched between them for what felt like a few minutes before Frank spoke up again. “Red?”  
  
“Hmm?” Matt turned toward Frank, happy to be pulled out of his thoughts.  
  
“Your eyes,” Frank said. He was looking directly at them as he worked his way toward his next statement. “I didn’t notice before, but they’re... unfocused,” he finished lamely. “You have your friend check them out?”  
  
Matt’s eyebrows rose as he realized that Frank didn’t know about his blindness. A spark of anger rose in him. Maybe Frank really hadn’t come to the hospital after the accident. If he had, he would have known.  
  
“Right,” he began. “I’m not sure if you ever found out but after the, uh, accident...” he stumbled over his words just as lamely as Frank had. “Whatever the truck was carrying, it blinded me.”

“No, I remember,” Frank cut in quickly. “I just figured it wasn’t permanent since you’re all... you know.” Frank gestured at Matt vaguely, acknowledging their adventures from earlier tonight.

“Oh, really?” Matt asked, surprised but not really. Relieved, more than anything else. He had hoped that Frank would have come to see him at least once, despite Jack’s insistence that his boyfriend had abandoned him. “I wasn’t sure you had heard. My dad told me that you hadn’t come by the hospital and we haven’t talked since then, so...”

“I stopped by once. You were pretty out of it so you probably don’t remember,” he said, purposely not addressing the second part of Matt’s statement. “And your old man wasn’t around when I came through so I guess he didn’t know,” Frank lied.

Matt heard Frank’s heart skip and scrunched up his face in confusion. Jack had barely left his side during his stay in the hospital, so he definitely would have known if Frank came by. But that wasn’t the part that threw Matt. He knew his father would have lied to put some distance between the two of them, but why wasn’t Frank telling the truth?

Frank spoke up before he had the chance to question him further.  
  
“So… you’re saying you can’t see?” 

Matt couldn’t help the small smile that broke loose. “That’s what blind means, Frank.”  
  
Frank didn’t laugh at his joke. “You’re shitting me.”  
  
“No, I’m really not.”  
  
Matt could feel Frank’s gaze on him more intensely than before. Frank cleared his throat.  
  
“Where’s my coat?  
  
“What? Um,” Matt got up from the bed. “I set it on the couch in the living room. Did you need something from it?”  
  
“Yeah. Could you bring it here?”  
  
“Sure,” Matt said questioningly.  
  
He got up from the bed and walked into the living room to get Frank’s coat. Frank scrutinized him the entire way. It didn’t look like Red was taking special care to navigate the floor space, but then again this was his apartment. He was familiar with the layout. Plus, there was barely any shit in here from the looks of it. He had about, what, two pieces of furniture?  
  
Red walked back into the room with his coat. He held it out for Frank to take.  
  
“Thanks,” he mumbled before grabbing the coat and digging through the pockets while Red stood over him.  
  
“I got rid of all your guns, if that’s what you’re looking for.”  
  
Frank stopped searching and looked up at Matt. “You got rid of all my-” he repeated softly, incredulous. “Now, Red, why would I be looking for one of my guns? Right now, of all times?”

Matt just shrugged, his allegedly sightless eyes somehow locked onto Frank perfectly in that moment. “You seem really fond of them, so…”  
  
Frank scoffed and resumed his digging. “I better get my shit back,” he grunted under his breath. Matt decided to ignore the comment.  
  
Finally, he pulled out something small and, round? More cylindrical, Matt realized. An electronic device.  
  
“Come here,” Frank said. There were no weapons left in his jacket so Matt wasn’t afraid that Frank would try to attack him. Though at this point he knew Frank didn’t need anything besides his bare hands to do some real damage, even in his weakened state.  
  
Matt tentatively lowered himself back onto the mattress. Frank leaned in closer to him and he heard a small click. Then, he felt a subtle warmth splash across his face. A flashlight. Frank was checking if he was actually blind.  
  
Matt waited as Frank took his time shining the light in both of his eyes. Once the light clicked off, Frank pushed himself back against the headboard and just looked at him.  
  
“Satisfied?” he asked Frank, the grin still on his face. Frank just exhaled heavily and tilted his head up to the ceiling.  
  
“Questions. I have so many questions, Red,” Frank said with a sigh. “You think this is funny, huh?” Matt could tell that Frank was smiling now, too.  
  
“No, I don’t mean to laugh,” Matt said, laughing despite himself. “You’re actually taking it better than most people.”  
  
“People actually know you can do this shit?” Frank asked, disbelievingly. “How do you do this shit?” he amended quickly.  
  
“A few people know, yeah,” he winced at the memory of telling Foggy about his abilities before answering Frank’s second question. “And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”  
  
Matt was still smiling. This seemed like it would be the first time he told someone about his senses and it turned out to be a relatively positive experience, if he didn’t consider how they got to this point in the first place. And he also didn’t count Elektra, since she technically found out about his abilities before he got the chance to tell her.

Matt shook the memories of both her and tonight’s earlier events from his mind, returning his attention to Frank. He’d attempt to keep the mood light for now.  
  
“Well, the chemicals that spilled on me all those years ago did end up permanently blinding me, like I said.” Frank grunted in acknowledgement of that night. Matt could tell from the way his breathing changed that he still wasn’t totally comfortable discussing the accident, so he moved on.  
  
“But once I lost my sight, all of my other senses were heightened. Taste, touch, smell, my hearing, especially.”  
  
“How heightened?” Frank asked. “You’d have to be able to hear a whole damn lot to fight the way you do without using your eyes.”  
  
“Right,” Matt said. “Well, for instance, I can tell that you’ll need to change the bandage on your left side in a couple minutes.”  
  
Frank looked down at his side to confirm. He wasn’t bleeding through the gauze yet, so he pulled it back to see that the small gash it was covering had just begun to bleed. His head whipped back up to Matt.  
  
“I could taste the copper in the air,” he explained. When Frank said nothing, he spoke up again.  
  
“Weirded out, yet?”  
  
“What? No, no. Not weirded out, per se,” Frank said.  
  
“I can also tell that you’re lying right now.”  
  
“What?” Frank asked in disbelief.  
  
“Your heartbeat fluctuates when you lie.”  
  
“You cannot hear my Goddamn heartbeat.”  
  
“I can,” Matt smirked at Frank’s frustration. “I can also tell that that makes you a little nervous. Or embarrassed, maybe?”  
  
Frank scoffed. “Embarrassed?”  
  
“I could feel your face heating up. When you started blushing,” Matt said. “I could also hear a slight change in your breathing. It got a little shallow, which tends to indicate nervousness but I wasn’t really sure in this case.”  
  
Frank just laughed. He shook his head at the utter craziness of everything he just heard.  
  
“Well, those superpowers of yours are fucking up because I was not blushing,” he said, making Matt laugh with him.  
  
“Another lie,” Matt teased.  
  
“Goddammit. Fuck you and my heartbeat, Red. How about that? And fuck those fucking bat ears of yours, too.”  
  
Matt almost lost it at that. He just shook his head once he regained his composure and smiled. “They’re not superpowers,” he corrected.  
  
“Oh, fuck that, Red,” Frank said emphatically. “There’s no way somebody could fight the way you do and not have some type of superpowers. I’ve never seen anybody move like that.”  
  
Now it was Matt’s turn not to blush. “Well, that’s actually not how I learned to fight.”  
  
Frank hummed questioningly, waiting for Matt to divulge another secret about the infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. “A man, Stick-“

“Stick,” Frank interrupted, deadpan. “That was his name?”  
  
“Yeah,” Matt shrugged. His name was probably the least unusual thing about the man. “He was like me. Blind,” he clarified.  
  
“He was a master martial artist. Knew over 100 different fighting styles,” Matt had to stop himself from bragging.

“Once I was released from the hospital, I was staying with a couple of the nuns that had looked after me while I was growing up. Because I wasn’t used to how my senses worked, every little noise bothered me. Doctor’s weren’t sure how to help me, and prayer apparently only did so much,” Matt said.

“So, they did some research and found someone who specialized in helping blind kids adjust and adapt. Stick took me under his wing and taught me everything I know.”  
  
Frank just stared at Matt in total silence. Matt almost asked if he was okay when he finally spoke up.  
  
“You know, Red, if you don’t wanna tell me how you learned to fight that’s fine. That’s all you had to say.”  
  
Matt couldn’t help his laugh this time. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”  
  
“Nah, you’re probably telling the truth. Hell, ‘The Adventures of Red and Stick’ is actually the most believable thing you said tonight,” he answered seriously.  
  
After their laughter died off, they sat in surprisingly comfortable silence. Then, Matt heard Frank hold his breath for a couple of seconds before letting it go. He repeated this several times.  
  
“What is it?” Matt asked. “I can tell you wanna say something.”  
  
Frank shook his head before he caught himself. “I just nodded,” he said. “But I guess you knew that, huh?”  
  
Matt nodded this time.  
  
“Course you did,” he said, mostly to himself before asking his real question. “Your old man. How’d he take all of this? I know the, uh, accident was pretty tough for him,” Frank said a little awkwardly.  
  
Matt hadn’t expected that though he probably should have. It was a pretty normal question, but the answer was still difficult for Matt to discuss.  
  
“I never actually told him about… what I could do. And he never did meet Stick, so....” Matt trailed off.  
  
“So, he doesn’t know about the superpowers,” Frank said slowly. “I guess he wouldn’t know about the long johns either, then.”  
  
“No, he doesn’t.” Matt said his next statement quickly before Frank could further remind him about how his father would have hated the life he made for himself. “He passed away a couple months after the accident.”  
  
Frank sighed, mentally kicking himself for even bringing up the old bastard. He had honestly just been curious. “I’m sorry, Red.”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” Matt said, throwing Frank’s words back at him. “Actually, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”  
  
Frank carefully didn’t say anything to that, so Matt pushed on.

“I had been in the hospital for a couple of months when the medical bills really started to pile up. My dad had a few connections with Roscoe Sweeney, a local crime boss that regularly circled the neighborhood. Dad offered to work for him for a couple of months, to make ends meet. Just as a runner, though.” Matt explained. As if he still needed to preserve his dad’s dignity at this point. To Frank, of all people.  
  
“I found out and tried to force him to quit, but of course he didn’t listen. By the time he’d made enough to pay off the hospital bills and then some, Sweeney didn’t wanna let him go. My dad told him to fuck off and...” Matt swallowed. It was easier to keep his emotions in check after so many years, but sometimes they still got the best of him. “Nobody tells Roscoe Sweeney to fuck off. And lives to tell the tale, at least.”  
  
Frank spoke up after a couple of seconds.  
  
“Red, that was not your fault,” he said, his voice somehow hard and soft at the same time. “Your father was responsible for his own decisions, same as any other man. He made the wrong one and you had to pay the price for that. That’s on him, not you.”  
  
Matt bristled slightly. “He was just doing what he thought was best for me. Of course that doesn’t excuse anything, but he didn’t have very many options,” Matt finished. He knew the excuse was weak, but it was true. He wasn’t perfect but everything Jack did, he did for Matt. “He was always trying to protect me.“

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me,” Frank couldn’t help but tack on, the sarcasm in his tone unmistakable.  
  
He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he couldn’t help himself; and once it was out, it was out. The nerve of that old prick. He gave Frank all that grief about not being able to give Red a good life, about him being a hood and a poor provider. And then the man had gone and died doing dirty work for a Goddamn loan shark. And left Red all alone.

And Frank knew that whatever Jack had said to him, everything he had done was still his own decision. He knew it, but right now it just felt good to have another reason to hate the man. Jack had convinced Frank to lie to Red, got him to make the only man he had ever truly loved believe that he didn’t want him. That Frank didn’t care about him, that he was no good for him. When the whole time, it had been Jack that couldn’t handle his own Goddamn responsibilities.  
  
Frank was pissed at the guy, but he knew that shit didn’t matter. Not now, when Red’s face was looking like that.  
  
“Shit, Red, I’m sorry,” he started.  
  
“No, that’s fair,” Matt responded, deflating a bit. “He was pretty terrible to you. And hypocritical as all hell.”  
  
“Nah, he was just being a good father. Just trying to protect ya, like you said. I probably woulda been worse had one of the babies brought someone like me home,” Frank finished quietly, his tone introspective.  
  
They were both silent at that. Matt didn’t know how fresh the wounds Frank’s loss had created were, but he suspected they would never go away. Not on their own, and definitely not if Frank had a say in it.  
  
Most people ran from their pain. Either in an attempt to heal from it or to avoid doing the work it took to actually heal. But Frank didn’t look like he was running in either direction. He seemed to be living in it. That pain was what fueled him to keep going. Where he was headed, Matt wasn’t sure. And he was afraid that he wouldn’t like the answer.  
  
Matt rose from the bed and moved slowly toward the door. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. You can get in there once I’m out.”

Frank exhaled heavily and sat up. “Nah, I’m good. I should be on my way.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Matt’s mouth opened when he yanked his IV out.

“Hey,” he said, rushing back over to Frank. “You don’t have to leave yet.”

“Yeah, I do, Red,” he breathed. He stood up, now face to face with Matt. “You interrupted something important tonight. I gotta go finish it.“

Matt gaped. “Really? Everything you already did tonight wasn’t enough?”

“No. It wasn’t,” Frank said, ignoring Matt’s shock. “I’ll see ya around, alright?”

He went to move past Matt but he grabbed Frank’s arm. “I can’t let you leave, Frank.”

Frank sighed and flopped his arms, appearing surprisingly childish as Matt pictured him rolling his eyes skyward.

“Why not, Red? Because I’m gonna go kill some scumbag that you’d rather spend the next couple of weeks beating to a pulp every other night?”

“No, because-“ Matt stopped himself. He couldn’t bring himself to say that he couldn’t lose Frank again. Not so soon after he’d just gotten him back. Not ever.

Even though a part of him suspected that on some level Frank already knew how he felt, and always would without him having to say a word, he felt divulging his feelings right now would do more harm than good. So he switched tactics. “Because it’s wrong.”

“And you’re right, Red?” he pulled his arm out of Matt’s grip and stared down at him. “I’m sure half those guys you fought either have brain damage or have to eat through a straw for the next couple months. Would the police say that’s right?”

“No, they wouldn’t. But at least those men are still alive!”

“Yeah, well they shouldn’t be!” Frank roared. “Those men, they’re the ones that took my family from me! My babies! My-“ he choked on the next word.

Matt said nothing as Frank panted in his face. He reached up and placed both hands on Frank’s bare biceps, tilting his head toward Frank’s so that they’d be looking into each other’s eyes, if they could.

“Listen,” he said softly. “You’re hurt. Just take one night to rest and clean up a little. Whatever you’re trying to do, you won’t be able to do it like this.”

“I don’t have one night, Red-“ Frank started, irritation clear in his voice.

“Please,” Matt interrupted. “Just a couple of hours.”

Frank fumed silently for a few more seconds before he spoke. “Fine,” he bit off.

Matt sighed in relief. “Thank you.” 

He steered Frank back toward the bed and sat him down. He didn’t bother reinserting the IV.

“I’m gonna shower. After I’m out, you can clean up then I’ll change your bandages,” he repeated.

Matt started toward his bathroom, but stopped once he got to the bedroom door and turned back to Frank.

“If you’re hungry, there’s food in the kitchen. It’s not much, but I have some leftovers from the other night. It’s too late to order out, so I can’t offer much else.”

Frank remained on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. “That’s fine, Red.”

Matt nodded after a beat, but said nothing. He retreated to the bathroom and closed the door.

Once Frank heard the water start running, his eyes drifted over to the stairs running up the edge of Matt’s living room. Then over to the rooftop exit they led to.

Red would be pissed, but what else was new? Frank had work to do. No point in wasting any more of their time. He rose from his seat and slowly exited the bedroom.

The familiarity of his current position wasn’t lost on him. The thought of leaving Red again, sneaking out from right under his nose, hurt him to his heart. But he had to do it. He had to. For the both of them.

If Jack hadn’t been right before, then maybe he was now. Red was better off without him. And maybe Frank would be, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i hope i did these characters justice. i’ve been winging it way more than i usually do, so any feedback would be appreciated. lmk if you enjoyed it!
> 
> hmu at @maniskordaze on twitter and tumblr!


	4. He Was a Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank had been his everything then. But what were they now? He didn’t think that he was still in love with the man, but he also wasn’t sure that his feelings had ever completely faded away. Or if they were even supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took way longer than anticipated. Finding the motivation to write has been so difficult and finding the direction I wanted to take the story in was even harder. But I feel like I’ve finally gotten some clarity about what I want to do. That is until a totally new idea interrupts my writing process and puts another month long hold on any updates. Anyway, I hope this chapter can bring you some joy despite the strange state of the world.
> 
> -
> 
> This chapter is made up almost entirely of drunken internal monologues. Hopefully it makes some sort of sense. 
> 
> A fully beta’d version will hopefully be coming soon.

Frank stooped to the ground and stubbed out the rest of his cigarette on the dirty rooftop under his feet as thunder rumbled softly overhead. It was gonna rain soon. All the more reason to take his ass back inside. But he couldn’t make his feet move.

Never in a million fucking years did he think he’d get to see Red again. Matthew Michael Murdock. His first love. His first everything that mattered. He especially didn’t expect to find him dressed up like the fucking devil and beating the shit out of people on the news.

He expected even less to be one of those very same shitbags. But damn, could his man pack a punch. Fuck. Not his man anymore.

That shitty Brandy Red had stored up in one of his cabinets must be catching up to him. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking. Anything that could compromise him further than he already was was a risk he couldn’t afford taking. But fuck if he didn’t know where else to turn.

This whole situation had thrown him for a Goddamn loop. He was on a mission. The only thing that mattered right now was finding out who had taken his family from him, and then taking their breath away from them.

He needed to find out who had turned him from a father and a husband, and into this... nothing. He was nothing. He wasn’t a man anymore. He wasn’t shit.

He was a gun. He was a killer. He was death itself. And he was gonna rain hell on every piece of shit that had taken his family from him and every other piece of shit he could get his hands on. That’s the only thing he was good for anymore.

He wasn’t good at whatever this was. Reunions. Finding Red again should have been a blessing. The one good thing God had given him in who knows how long. But if he was honest, it felt more like a curse.

Avenging his babies, avenging Maria. That’s what he was here to do. That was his purpose. And Red. He was disrupting the mission.

Not only was he actually disrupting the fucking mission, but he was screwing with Frank’s head. With his everything. Red was a reminder of life. Of life before he’d lost his. And he was doing his best to drag Frank out of this hell he was in and into a totally new one.

Life without his babies was unbearable. He knew this. That’s why he abandoned it. But Red. He was trying to raise him from the dead and force him back into the world. A world without Maria. And what was worse, he could almost imagine it. Living in that world.

It was dangerous. It was too Goddamn dangerous being here with him. It was too confusing.

He hated the idea of hurting Red. Hurting him anymore than he already had. Hurting him in the same way he had all those years ago. In all the ways he had tonight. But he had to choose.

Red wasn’t going to stop. Frank knew that much. Ever since he was seventeen fucking years old, that kid had an unhealthy disregard for the word ‘No.’ Anything that stood in his way wouldn’t be there for long.

Was the mission worth stopping Red? Hurting him?

He needed to fucking choose.

***

Matt ran the towel through his hair before wrapping it around his waist, skin damp and fingers pruned from his brief shower. He stepped out of the tub and walked to his sink, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the porcelain with surprisingly steady hands. He dropped his head and took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment to breathe.

He had wanted to sit under the hot spray forever. And on any other night he would have, but he knew he needed to get back to Frank as soon as possible. He didn’t want to leave the man unsupervised for too long.

He’d probably decide that staying in the apartment for the night just because Matt asked him to wasn’t enough of a reason, not anymore. And even if he did decide to stay, Matt still wanted to be there with him for as long as he could. Frank had been alone for long enough. He wasn’t sure what the man would do if he was left to his own devices; to himself or anyone else.

After a few minutes Matt left the bathroom, walked down the hall, and into his bedroom to get a pair of pants to sleep in. He was halfway to his dresser when he realized that Frank was no longer in the room. He stopped in his tracks and tilted his head slightly to the left, listening intently for any sign of the man. Frank wasn’t in the apartment.

Once he concentrated a little more, that familiar heartbeat overtook his senses. He could tell that Frank was close, just outside of the building. On the rooftop, he surmised. It seemed Matt had gotten out of the shower just in time.

He had hoped that Frank would keep his word and remain in the apartment for the night, but he knew this was more likely to happen. At least he could catch Frank before he got too far and convince him to come back. And if talking didn’t work, then Matt could think of a few other ways to get and keep him inside. It’s not like a few more bruises would bother Frank all that much; he was practically covered in them anyway. But Matt guessed he wasn’t one to talk.

Matt threw on the first thing he could find and left the bedroom. Just as he was about to storm up the staircase to the rooftop exit, the door creaked open.

Matt stood there as Frank took his time entering the apartment and closing the door behind him. He smelled overwhelmingly like cigarette smoke. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked Matt over.

“Goin’ somewhere, Red?” he asked tiredly. Matt had pulled on just a hoodie and an old pair of sweatpants when he thought he’d have to track Frank down. He didn’t even have on any shoes.

“I hope you didn’t plan on going outside like that,” he said lazily, slowly descending the stairs. “You’d freeze your ass off. Look pretty stupid, too.”

Matt deflated a bit as he shifted from his usual fighting stance to something only slightly more relaxed. “I thought you were leaving.”

“So... what? You were gonna put on your pajamas and beat me up until I changed my mind?”

“Something like that,” Matt said after a beat.

Frank chuckled. “Well, no need. Just having a smoke.”

Matt sniffed, catching another scent clinging to the man. “Smells like you were having a drink, too.”

“Yup,” Frank sighed. “That nose of yours is something else, Red. But your taste in liquor is absolute shit.”

He reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled right up to Matt, a small smile stretched across his face. Even someone with average senses would have been able to tell that Frank was drinking. He smelled like a small brewery.

“Well, you sure seemed to enjoy it. I hope you didn’t have the entire bottle all by yourself?”

“No way, Red. I saved you some,” he brushed past Matt. “Bottle’s on the... The somewhere.” He waved his hands, gesturing in the general direction of the kitchen.

Matt belatedly smelled the source of Frank’s intoxication sitting on the island behind his dining table. He walked over to the bottle and picked it up. This one was new. It was now about half full.

“I’ll have that shower now, Red. Where’s your bath stuff?”

“Um,” Matt set the bottle down and turned back to Frank. “I set a towel and cloth out for you in the bedroom. And I have some clothes for you to change into if you want. I can throw the ones you have on in the wash really quick.”

“Thanks,” Frank said. He hung around awkwardly for a bit, saying nothing. They both stood in silence before Frank nodded and turned away.

After Matt heard the shower start running, he sighed. Tonight was going to be very interesting. He took a hearty swig from the bottle before picking it up, carrying it over to the coffee table and throwing himself onto the couch.

He hadn’t expected Frank to start drinking, but after the night they’d both had it wasn’t hard to understand why.

He had never in a million years expected to see Frank again, let alone like this. The man was a mass murderer. And for what exactly? Matt settled into his seat and decided he’d lay out everything he knew and try to make sense of it all. Then he’d reward himself by joining Frank in getting as drunk as possible.

Frank was on a quest for revenge. His family had apparently been killed by Hell’s Angels a while back. In a mass shooting, he remembered. Now he was using his military training to kill everyone and anyone that had been involved. And anyone that got in his way of doing so. Which of course was Daredevil.

“Hmm,” Matt hummed to the empty living room. He guessed it wasn’t that complicated after all, at least not on paper. But Frank wasn’t just some guy. He wasn’t one of the random, criminal, pieces of shit that New York seemed to churn on out every other day as if on a schedule. This was his Frank. His...

His ‘Ex’ seemed like way too simple a name for him but Matt guessed that’s what he was. They had dated over ten years ago. Ten years. What would have seemed like forever ago yesterday now only felt like a few minutes. He could picture their time together so clearly.

They had been in love. And not in the way that all teenagers seem to believe they are every other week. What they had was real. They were both so young back then, but Matt was still smart enough to realize how rare it was; smart enough not to take their feelings for granted.

It was such a unique sensation, being in love. To have your first and last thoughts of the day be about just one thing. One person. To know someone completely. To have seen them at their worst, at their lowest point, and still see the best in them. To feel like everything that matters in the entire world, is tangled up in your bed sheets. In arms that are wrapped around you tighter than your own skin and holding you in ways that made you feel like you’d never be more comfortable. Couldn’t be if you tried.

He was just happy. Even when Frank pissed him off, he was still happy.  
He’d only ever gotten close to that feeling with one other person. But being with Eleketra had been... different, to say the least.

He had loved her, too. No question about it. But that had gone to shit, too. And even if it hadn’t, he would’ve had to walk away for both their sakes. Even though it still hurt to think about her, he understood why they shouldn’t be together and he had come to terms with it. For the most part, anyway. But with Frank he had never gotten such closure.

Frank had been his everything then. But what were they now? He didn’t think that he was still in love with the man, but he also wasn’t sure that his feelings had ever completely faded away. Or if they were even supposed to.

He took another long swig from the bottle. Its not like he and Frank had just broken up. So much shit had happened over the course of one stupid night. One second he was introducing Frank to his dad, the next he was waking up blind in a hospital bed; being told that Frank had walked out of his life and wasn’t coming back. And now they were back in each other’s lives in the most complicated way possible.

Matt heard the bathroom door swing open and Frank strolled into the room a few seconds later. He stood in front of the bedroom door as he spoke.

“I stuck all my shit in here if you feel like washing it still,” he shook the contents of a small duffel bag he was holding. “Towel’s in there, too.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Frank nodded and set the bag off to the side, hopefully in a spot Matt wouldn’t trip over it if he weren’t paying attention. He lingered in that spot for a while after.

“Have a seat,” Matt gestured to the empty armchair across from him. “You seem... chill,” Matt noticed as Frank walked over to the chair. “I guess you lost your buzz in the shower, huh?”

“‘Chill’, huh? Maybe so,” Frank said as he eased into the seat. “And I guess I did. That cheap shit doesn’t last too long, does it?”

“Nope. But it still gives you one hell of a hangover. Join me, won’t you?” he joked, thrusting the bottle out to Frank.

Frank accepted the bottle with a laugh that sounded more like a gruff exhale. He took a long gulp then smacked his lips. “This tastes like piss, Red.”

Matt grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried piss before.”

“Funny,” Frank deadpanned.

“Thanks,” he said more to fill the silence than for anything else. “I think someone said it tasted more like ‘old asshole’, though.

Frank choked on his next swallow, nearly spitting out an entire mouthful of alcohol onto himself. “Not how I would describe it,” he said, once he caught his breath. “But still pretty accurate, you ask me.”

Matt chuckled as he listened to Frank cough up his drink. “Careful. You probably got more on your shirt than in your mouth.”

“Nah, I didn’t bother with the one you gave me. Shit was way too tight. Pants are too,” he plucked at the sweats Matt had set out for him. “But I didn’t think you’d appreciate me strollin’ around your apartment buck naked,” he said.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t mind.”

Silence stretched between them for a few seconds. Frank’s heartbeat remained steady but Matt could still feel every bit of tension in the air. He wanted to let his statement hang there until Frank worked up whatever nerve he needed to either respond or sidestep it completely, but he decided to give him an easy out.

“I’m blind, Frank. I don’t really see much of anything, so it wouldn’t make much difference,” Matt joked. Frank blew out a bit of air in what was supposed to be another laugh but read more as a sigh of relief. Matt wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Asshole,” Frank muttered good naturedly. “You know this wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so Goddamn small. I thought you worked out?”

“I do work out, asshole,” Matt shot back. “And I’m not small. Maybe if you laid off those beers, you’d be able to fit in one of my perfectly normal sized shirts.”

Frank nearly guffawed at that. He passed the bottle back to Matt and he took a drink. “That’s funny considering beer’s about the closest thing to food you’ve got in this place. That and this shit.” He nodded at the bottle they were sharing. It was near empty at this point.

“Well,” Matt shrugged, smiling around the bottle as he took another sip. “I offered you my day old takeout. I don’t know how much of a better host I could be.”

“Shit, Red. That’s just sad,” Frank shook his head. “How you gonna keep parkour-ing around Hell’s Kitchen if you don’t eat?”

“I eat,” Matt said, starting to get a little defensive. He’d had this conversation with Foggy so many times that he’d lost count. “But being a lawyer with no clients isn’t as profitable as it might seem. Food has become more of a luxury than a necessity.”

“What you need is a decent home cooked meal,” Frank said.

“That’s the second time tonight you’ve sounded like Foggy,” he said. “He’s constantly trying to force me to his parents’ place every Sunday night for a ‘family dinner.’ He’s convinced I’ll starve myself otherwise.”

“Foggy, huh. That’s your old pal Nelson, yeah?” Frank asked. “How’s he doin’?”

“Um, yeah. He’s doing fine,” Matt told him. “I forgot you guys actually met before. God, that feels like forever ago.”

“I guess it was,” Frank said, his tone hard to decipher. Matt didn’t spend time trying to figure it out, he instead picked up on the goosebumps rising on Frank’s skin.

“You’re cold,” he said. “You want me to grab you a sweater? I have some that I think could actually fit you. Pants, too, if you want?”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Red. I’m really fine.”

“It’s not a problem,” Matt rose from his seat to retrieve the clothes and nearly fell forward onto the coffee table.

Frank was up in an instant, hand gripping Matt’s bicep to keep him upright.

Matt didn’t answer him. He realized he was farther gone than he thought he was, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t drunk. At least not yet. But his difficulty standing on his own seemed to disprove that point. As did the fact that Frank still hadn’t let go of his arm.

The energy in the room changed before Matt could even register what was happening. He stood as still possible, listening as Frank’s heart stuttered in his chest before it went back to its steady rhythm.

Matt straightened to his full height and turned so that he was face to face with Frank. In that moment, Matt wished more than anything that he could really look at Frank. Right now, he would give anything to be able to look into his eyes one more time and see the Frank that he remembered all those years ago. How did his memories measure up to the man standing in front of him, he wondered.

He raised his arms and reached out to Frank as slowly as he could manage, giving the man plenty of opportunity to stop him.

When Frank didn’t object, Matt continued to reach forward. He placed his hands on either side of his face. His hands faltered as he felt the heat radiating off of bruises and small scrapes he’d earned earlier tonight. Frank’s heart stuttered again.

“What are you doing, Red?” he breathed.

Matt answered by running his fingers across his forehead and brushing them back through Frank’s hair. He kept it short now, which didn’t surprise Matt all that much. It was very much in keeping with this new-but-not-really attitude of his. Blunt and to the point. The strands pricked his hand before he moved them back to their original place, framing Frank’s face.

He moved his hands inward, feeling Frank’s strong brow and the deep set of his eyes. Long eyelashes brushed his fingers as Matt placed his thumbs on his nose, running his fingers up and down its crooked bridge. This he remembered perfectly. More painful recollections of Frank’s past flooded his mind. Frank had been in his fair share of fights in his twenties, but he’d undoubtedly suffered a lot more breaks from his recent activity.

Matt did his best to still his trembling hands as he moved down to Frank’s mouth. He ran his thumb slowly across his full bottom lip. He allowed himself to be pulled back into memories of the two of them on Frank’s bed. Frank pressing these same lips to his chest, to his neck, and then to his own lips. Matt stood there, feeling the roughness of Frank’s stubble against his palms and the warm breath ghosting across his face.

Frank sucked in a shaky breath and licked his lips, wetting Matt’s fingertips in the process. Matt waited for him to follow up the inhale with a soft rebuke. For him to tell Matt to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing came.

Matt moved closer, eliminating the near nonexistent inch of space between the two of them. He tilted his face up toward Frank’s and pressed their lips lightly together. Matt inhaled heavily, soaking up the scent of Frank. Of Matt’s soap, the faint smell of cigarette smoke still clinging to his skin, the alcohol on his breath. That smell that always seemed to seep into his apartment every time it rained. He listened to the drops hitting his rooftop and knocking softly against his window. He wanted to memorize every detail of this moment; of Frank Castle against his skin.

Frank raised his own hands, placing them over Matt’s. He moved them off of his face and pressed them against his own chest, heart pounding underneath their fingers. He pressed their foreheads together and shut his eyes, breath coasting across Matt’s skin. Matt exhaled shakily as well, before pushing forward for another kiss. Frank pulled back.

“Red...” he said softly.

Matt closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he sighed. He took a few deep breaths and tried to get his emotions back under control. He knew this was a mistake.

“Matt, I’m sorry. I-“

“No. I’m sorry, Frank,” Matt interrupted. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Matt, I-“

“It’s fine.” Matt pulled his hand from Frank’s, instantly missing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under his hand. “Let me get you that sweater.”

Frank tentatively released his hands and watched him walk toward the bedroom. Once he was inside, Matt slid the door closed behind him.

He leaned against his dresser and tried to get his breathing back to normal. He felt so... he didn’t know what he felt. Stupid. That was it. He sat on the edge of his bed and placed his head in his hands.

What was wrong with him? After everything that happened tonight; after everything he’d learned about Frank’s life, why would he think that it would be appropriate to kiss Frank?

But he couldn’t help himself. He just hated that Frank was in so much pain. That so much horrible shit had happened to him and that Matt couldn’t do a damn thing to help him. That Frank’s way of coping with his life was to kill literally hundreds of people in cold blood. He was even sorrier that none of this changed the way he felt about him. That it only made him love Frank even more.

Frank wasn’t supposed to be the man that he is today. He was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to love and be loved. Matt couldn’t even bear to think about how he’d react if he’d gone through just a fraction of what Frank had. He had suffered every bit as horribly as Matt, maybe even worse. But now, by some kind of miracle, God had brought them back together.

It had felt like a horrible joke for him to finally be reunited with Frank under these circumstances, but maybe he had found Frank again for a reason. To guide him back to life.

Or maybe Matt was drunk and just seeing what he wanted to see. He decided both options were equally possible.

But whatever the case was, Matt knew that he couldn’t let Frank go. He had to stay and help him become the man that Matt knew he could be. Even if he wouldn’t be able to hold the man in the way he now so desperately wanted to; he would happily settle for being whatever Frank needed him to be to keep him on the right path.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Frank until he opened the sliding door and stepped into the bedroom after him.

He turned toward Frank, quickly rising from the bed and sniffing. He swiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “Um, sorry,” he said wetly. “I’ll grab you that sweater.”

Frank said nothing. He just strode toward Matt and gripped his arm, stopping him on the way to the closet. He turned Matt back toward him. He slid his hand up to Matt’s face and stared down at him.

“Frank, I-“

“No, Red. You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted. “Just... Don’t say anything.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Matt’s. He walked them both backwards until Matt’s back was pressed against the wall. Matt ran his hands up Frank’s arms until they reached his shoulder, then wound his arms around Frank’s neck and pulled him as close as possible.

Frank wrapped his arms around Matt’s back and deepened the kiss. Matt let the feel of Frank’s chest pressed against his own erase any confusion and anything close to a coherent thought from his mind. He allowed himself to finally be lost in the moment. He let himself just celebrate that Frank had found his way back to him.

He decided that right now, this was all that mattered. Tomorrow he could figure out what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i hope i did these characters justice. lmk if you enjoyed it 🥺
> 
> hmu at @maniskordaze on twitter and tumblr!


	5. Cherry Flavoured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avenge the dead or live with the living. Revenge or peace. Frank wasn’t sure either he or Red even knew what peace was at this point. If that’s what either of them were looking for. But whatever “peace” was, whatever that sweet spot was between all the pain and suffering and death that was his life, this moment here had to be pretty close to it. Surrounded by silk sheets right next to what Frank was convinced had to be the most amazing man on God’s green earth. The only man he’d had the pleasure of falling in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLACK LIVES MATTER. Hopefully these words don’t feel out of place or uncomfortable to see for anyone. But as a black person and just as a human being, I really need this to be said as loudly and as often as possible. In any and all spaces that I inhabit.
> 
> This site and all of these amazing fics have always been a refuge for me. Consuming art is a source of fun and a great escape for when reality is too troubling, but now I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. Not when almost every significant moment of the news cycle for the last few months has been trying to convince me that my life doesn't mean anything.
> 
> The fight for my rights and the fact that many people would rather see me dead more than anything else has been at the forefront of every aspect of my existence. It’s tough and it’s difficult, but that’s my reality.
> 
> I just wanted to set a precedent for any and all interactions I may have with anyone on this site or elsewhere, that again, BLACK LIVES MATTER. That cannot be said enough, as just acknowledging this fact is literally the absolute least we can do in this fight. If for whatever reason you don’t agree with this or feel like this isn’t the “place” for this conversation to be had, please do not interact with me or my work from this point on.  
> *
> 
> So, I FINALLY finished. Almost five whole months later, we've reached our conclusion. I listened to several different songs while writing this but ultimately "Cherry Flavoured" by The Neighbourhood won out for the title. I intended to capture the vibe of the song in this chapter, but of course that's not really how it ended up. Inspiration and motivation have both been at record lows the last few months, but I forced myself to crank out what ended up being the final chapter of this fic. I hope you enjoy it!  
> *
> 
> This fic is set in an alternate version of S2E3 of Daredevil. Matt and Frank meet, except this time, it's a reunion instead of an introduction.

Frank lied in the center of the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. These sheets were so Goddamned soft, he thought. They were making it incredibly hard to just get up and leave the fucking bed. Even harder than it already was.

He let his head fall to the side, taking in the sight of Red’s sleeping form. His back was to Frank, his side slowly rising and falling as he slept. Frank watched him for a few more seconds before turning back to the roof.

He stared at the criss-cross of wooden beams and listened as the last of the rain pounded against the windows before tapering off completely. It was loud enough to Frank that it made him wonder what it sounded like to Red. Those bat ears of his. It was a wonder how he ever got to sleep in this city.

He guessed Red was probably exhausted after the night they’d had, which must help a little. But then again, Frank figured nights like these weren’t all that uncommon for Red. Kicking ass until his fists were bloody and muscles were sore. Until his heart was beating outta his chest and he could barely breathe. Frank knew the feeling well. He had the scars to prove it. So did Red.

Fuck, these last couple of hours were a workout all on their own. He wondered how many nights like  that Red had had. Dammit. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Hadn’t earned the right to. Not sure if he even wanted the right to.

His eyes went back to the scars covering what looked like Red’s whole damn body. This city had done a real number on him. Frank had been following reports on the “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” for a solid year now. Goddamn, that name was stupid as all hell.

He had to admit it was catchy, but he wasn’t sure it really fit. Red was the furthest thing from the devil, despite what he’d have all those lowlives on the street believe. He was soft. Sweet. Maybe not as soft as he’d been all those years ago. Life had made sure of that. 

Red’s precious God had dealt him a shitty hand. And Frank wasn’t trying to absolve himself of any crimes; he’d had a hand in turning Matt’s life upside down, too. But at least he’d made something of himself, despite all that. Frank learned a long time ago that there were very few things on this earth that could keep Matt from getting what he wanted, and even after all these years Frank had yet to encounter any of them. Not even a bullet to the head could keep him down.

Ugh. Frank’s stomach turned at the thought of even wanting to shoot Red. Anyone with eyes could have seen that the helmet was designed to withstand a low velocity round from the average handgun, but Frank rarely used low velocity rounds. Or the average handgun.

Thank goodness he’d decided to during their first falling out on that rooftop, though. He hadn’t been trying to kill the idiot, though he wouldn’t have cared all that much if he had. God, it made him fucking sick to think about what would have happened if that toy armor hadn’t held up. Red wouldn’t be here today. 

Red chose that moment to groan and roll over in his sleep. He was face to face with Frank now. And he was Goddamn beautiful. He was the only man Frank would use that word to describe, but fuck him if it didn’t fit. Matt was closer to an Angel than he could ever be to the devil. 

Frank took in every inch of his face. From his lips to his nose to his... eyes. Damn those eyes. He could still see the scars from when that acid hit him. Memories of that night came right back to the forefront of his mind like it was fucking yesterday. God, what was he doing? Who did he think he was fooling?

It seemed like he couldn’t help but hurt Matt, whether he knew he was doing it or not. And here he was, doing it all over again. He’d chained one of the greatest loves of his life to the roof of a building, beat him and forced him to watch as he killed a whole bar full of assholes. And Frank had the audacity to have the man bring him to his home and look after him. And now he had the fucking gall to crawl into the man’s bed after all these years. To lie next to Red and claim to be anything other than piece of shit they both knew he was.

Fuck, he’d made Red cry earlier. The list just kept getting longer and longer. Frank wasn’t just ripping open old wounds, he was creating all new ones at this point. He didn’t know what it was that made him feel like he deserved to be here. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He needed to get the fuck outta dodge and save Red from any more pain.

So, why couldn’t he just leave? Just get out of the bed and go. Finally just leave Red and all this shit behind. Lord knows it would make both their lives a whole lot easier. 

Red wasn’t the only person he wronged. The only family that he failed. He had babies. A wife he needed to do right by. 

In his short time on this earth, Frank had left a trail of bodies in his wake. A few of which he’d give anything to trade places with. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring them back no matter what he did. The least he could do is make a couple of the motherfuckers who put them in the ground sorry they had done it.

Man, he was between a rock and one hell of a hard place. Avenge the dead or live with the living. Revenge or peace. Shit, Frank wasn’t sure either he or Red even knew what peace was at this point. If that’s what either of them were looking for. But whatever “peace” was, whatever that sweet spot was between all the pain and suffering and death that was his life, this moment here had to be pretty close to it. 

Surrounded by silk sheets right next to what Frank was convinced had to be the most gorgeous man on God’s green earth. The only man he’d had the pleasure of falling in love with.

What the hell was he even talking about? That shitty brandy of Red’s must still be working it’s way through his system. That’s what Frank decided to tell himself, anyway. He needed a cigarette. Well, he needed a fucking lot right now but a cigarette would have to do.

He was pretty sure the rain had stopped for good, now. It was probably safe to step outside for a few minutes. Frank did a quick scan of the room, using the light from that bright ass billboard to see if he’d left his coat anywhere near him.

When he didn’t see it, he sighed. He leaned up as slowly and as quietly as he could, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced at Red and saw that he still hadn’t moved. He was good to go.

He rose from the bed and damn near tip toed into the next room. He found his coat along with the rest of his clothes folded neatly on the couch. “You didn’t have to do that,” Frank almost whispered before he stopped himself. He wouldn’t put it above Red to hear that one sentence despite how quiet he was being.

Frank wasn’t surprised but he was a little irritated when he couldn’t find any of the guns he’d put in his coat. Red had probably chucked them out a window first chance he got. He’d just have to make a stop at his suppliers later this week. And it’s not like he didn’t have enough protection at the safe house to last him until then.

Frank got dressed in near silence, wincing every time his damned jeans or coat rustled. Damn, this brought back memories. Mostly bad ones. He felt like a real asshole. Fucking some guy and sneaking out before he woke up. It took him back to his years as a stupid kid.

He’d messed around with a couple of folks after he’d ended things with Matt the first time. Trying to fill that hole in his chest, as it were. And obviously it hadn’t done a damned bit of good. He’d broken more than a few hearts before he pulled his head out of his ass and enlisted. 

Hopefully, Red wouldn’t react as badly as a few of his ladies had when they’d caught him skulking out of bed before the sun came up. The girls always seemed to take it harder than the guys. But thank God none of them were fluent martial artists or Frank would have been a dead man long before he’d actually died.

Once he was fully dressed, he turned slowly towards the bedroom to make sure Red was still dead to the world. Yup. Sleepin’ like a baby. Frank forced his eyes off of the man and creeped quietly up the stairs toward the rooftop exit he’d used earlier in the night. 

He let the door shut quietly behind him as he stepped outside, then patted down his pockets until he found what he was looking for. At least Red hadn’t thrown out his smokes. 

He pulled out one of the cigarettes, his lighter and shuffled over to the edge of the rooftop. Once he got there, he crossed his arms and leaned on the ledge. Frank looked out over the city and shook his head.

Even at four o’clock in the Goddamn morning, this city refused to shut the hell up. He could hear people yelling, horns honking and some stupid pop song playing out of someone’s apartment even now. It almost made him miss the quiet of his old bunker back in that Godforsaken desert.

At any given time, that hellhole would be anything but peaceful. But after hours and hours of blowing out some poor souls’ brains and being knee deep in their blood and guts, there would be moments of complete and utter silence.

He would walk outside of his tent, leave all his buddies and their bullshittin’ behind, find an empty spot somewhere on the ground. He’d sit, lie back, and just look up at a totally black sky. No stars; he remembered some nights where it seemed like even the moon wasn’t up there shining down on him.

He’d just stare. Sometimes for an hour or two and sometimes for just a couple of minutes. However much time he could spare. Those were some of the only moments in his life Frank remembered feeling truly relaxed. Not tired, or stressed, or adrenaline shooting through his veins.

He’d almost felt like he was someone else. Or maybe no one at all. Like he was just a  thing watching himself from far away. Like all of the bullshit Rawlins was spewing about how much better the mission could’ve gone, even all the men he’d lost; those were somebody else’s problems. He had nothing to worry about in those moments.

Frank didn’t think he’d ever feel that way again, especially not in this Goddamn city. He still didn’t feel totally human anymore. He was still a  thing,  just a thing with all the problems he could escape from before. Yeah. A whole lot of problems.

He placed the cigarette in his mouth and flicked the lighter to life. He cupped his hand around the flame as he brought it to his lips and lit the cancer stick. He inhaled slowly, eyes closing in relief. Fuck, this shit felt way better than it should. He’d have to quit soon.

The parallels between the cancer stick and his current situation weren’t lost on him. Red was the cigarette he was trying to quit but just couldn’t, or what have you. It was all really poetic. 

A better man would have put it much better than he could. Frank remembered back in the day when he used to have time for shit like that. Books and poetry. A lot of it was bullshit. But if you really looked, there were a lot of good reads out there. 

There were nights back when he was a kid locked up in his bedroom, and even some when he was out there in the trenches, when men like Whitman and Sun Tzu kept him sane. Made it seem like the world made some kind of sense. He could use some of that right now. 

Frank looked back as far as he could, doing his best to recall the words of those men. Anything to make this shit make sense.

_"Tyger Tyger burning bright,_

_In the forests of the night:_

_What immortal hand or eye,_

_Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?"_

_ “That was beautiful, Frank,” Red said after a moment of silence. _

_ They were spread out on Matt’s bed, Red’s head resting on his bicep as Frank held the book of poetry to his chest. _

_ “Yeah, it was. Wasn’t it?” Frank bent his neck to peck the top of Matt’s head. He closed the book and used his free arm to set it on the nightstand next to the bed. _

_ Red sat up and looked down at Frank, those blue eyes so damn striking. “What do you think it means?” _

_ Frank huffed out a long sigh. “I guess it means that, uh...” Frank pushed himself up so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard. “God, or whoever’s up there, isn’t this all loving being he claims to be. That the tiger represents the evil within that he’s capable of.” _

_ He reached out and grabbed Matt’s hand, turning it it over in his own before lifting it up and pressing it to his lips. “Or maybe that somebody else created the tiger. That the evil it represents is the result of something else entirely. Maybe the horrors of life itself.” _

_ Frank kept his eyes down, still fixated on that hand as he turned it over and over. He didn’t realize the room had gone silent until Red finally spoke up. _

_ “You really believe that?” _

_ Frank met his eyes then shrugged. “What it sounded like to me.” _

_ “That’s not how I took it,” Matt situated himself so that he was facing Frank. He was across from him on the bed, sitting on a folded knee and pulling his hand free to rest on Frank’s leg. “I don’t think the tiger is necessarily evil. It’s just... different. It has a power that’s rarely ever seen in so many of God’s other creations.” _

_ “And each of them are varied. So varied that they can often times be misunderstood. Just because the tiger appears feral and angry and has the capabilities to be deadly, doesn’t mean it has to be,” Red said.  _

_ “Because everything God creates has a purpose and serves His vision. I think...” Matt paused, searching for the right words. He reached forward and took hold of Frank’s hand once again. He held it in one of his own, lacing their fingers together before he continued.  _

_ “Blake is using the tiger to represent the expanse of God’s ability and to marvel at how His vision can be so far beyond man’s own realizations.” _

_ Frank let loose a small smile as he eyed their hands on the bed. He kept his gaze there as he answered. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.” _

_ Matt laughed softly, it was more an exhale than anything else. He stared at the floor for a couple of seconds before he decided to speak up again. “You know God has a plan for you, too, Frank.” _

_ Frank groaned, letting his head roll back against the wall as he stared at the roof. “Red, please don’t.” _

_ Frank had had enough of God. For as long as he could remember, Mario Castiglione sat in the pews of that stupid fucking cathedral every Sunday. And not one of those long winded sermons seemed to make him a better father, a faithful husband, or even a good person.  _

_ And Frank had gone, too. He and his mother sat right next to that piece of shit every week. They sat right across from a man who the entire neighborhood knew was beating his wife half to hell every damn night. Right in front of a preacher who was sleeping with half the girls in the congregation. Surrounded by people who didn’t think Frank belonged in the fucking church to begin with. Eventually it got so bad that Frank had had enough and quit going. Not that anyone had minded. _

_ He couldn’t worship a God whose “servants” didn’t serve anything but themselves. A God who didn’t answer prayers when confused kids were crying themselves to sleep at night. Who let mobsters and murderers terrorize his neighborhood and so many others like it.  _

_ He’d realized long ago that if anyone was up there, they didn’t give a damn about the people down here. And if that was the case, Frank didn’t give a damn about them either. _

_ “No, I know Frank,” Matt kept right on going. “I know you gave up on God. But he hasn’t given up on you.”  _

_ He scooted closer to Frank. Red kept one hand in his and placed the other one against his chest. Right over his heart. “And neither have I. I know the world is a shitty place and you don’t understand why. Nobody really does, even though they might say otherwise.” _

_ Red reached up and placed his hand against Frank’s face. He used it to angle his head upward, forcing Frank to meet his eyes. “But the good things; me and you, reading poetry together on this old twin bed. Max running up to greet you after a long day at work. Those are the things worth believing in.” _

_Red leaned in and kissed Frank, slow and sweet. The kind of kiss that made Frank_ t _hink about things like forever. “I don’t know why we have to take the bad with the good. But we do. It’s just how life works.”_

_Red crawled up the bed and moved back next to Frank. He placed his arm around_ _Frank’s shoulder and pulled him in close as he could. He loved when Matt did that. It made him feel so warm. Safe. He rarely ever got that feeling in anyone but himself. And never as completely as he did in moments like this. He rested his head on Matt’s shoulder and splayed his_ _hand flat on Red’s stomach as he listened._

_“I mean, who knows?Maybe all the bad shit that happens in the world, that happened to us; maybe it all happened for a reason. Maybe we wouldn’t be together if it hadn’t.”_

_Now, Frank didn’t believe that was true for one second. He believed every good thing in his life, all two of them, he’d_ _fought for and earned all on his own. But then again, he guessed he couldn’t say for sure that it wasn’t true. Nobody really knows. Maybe that was the point Red was trying to get him to see? That was at least part of it._

_But what Frank did know was that this was all part of life. Red was right about_ _that. You had to take the good with the bad. Maybe Frank would never know how or why life was like this, but he knew that he had to live it. There was no other option. And a life with Red, with love and happiness, was worth whatever price he’d have to pay._

What a fucking surprise. Even back when they were kids Red was talking some sense into him. That was one thing both he and Maria had in common.

Frank didn’t understand why no matter how badly he knew that he should, he couldn’t leave Red alone. Even if he left this empty ass apartment and never came back, Red would still be apart of him. Matthew Michael Murdock was gonna live inside him until Frank took his last breath. Probably even then. It was just a fact he was gonna have to accept.

But he couldn’t leave his family behind. His wife. His babies. They’d be inside him, too. Right next to Red. He had to do right by them. Nothing was gonna get in the way of that. Get in the way of justice; it might not be right or fair, but it was the only kind of justice he knew how to give.

So, he was gonna go. He was going to avenge Lisa, Junior and his old lady. No matter where that journey took him, he was gonna ride it out. Maybe once he was finished, once he’d done all he needed to do and purged this part of himself of all the anger and hate, he’d find his way back to Red. If that was even possible. Frank could finally admit that he hoped that was the case. All he could do now was wait and see.

He took a few steps back, steadied himself, and then ran for the end of the rooftop. He leaped as soon as he’d reached it, just barely reaching the building next to his.

He scrambled to his feet and immediately pressed a hand to his side. He was still in bad shape, but he was well enough to make it back to base. Get some planning done and then strike his next target.

He took another moment to prepare, muttering to himself to man up, before he jumped over to the next rooftop. Thank God, or whoever, this one was a little closer. He made it over a few more rooftops before he climbed down an old fire escape and jumped onto the street. Once he landed, he turned back to Matt’s apartment building. One last look before he went on his way.

“See ya around, Red,” he said. And he meant it. And he knew it was stupid, but he hoped Red heard him. He hoped that Red knew he didn’t plan to be gone forever. That if he would have him, Frank would be back one day. Hopefully, he wouldn’t hate Frank so much that he wouldn’t be willing to start over. To try again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo i’m sure that we all know the painful feeling of reading a fic you really enjoy only to get to the end and find out it’ll never be finished. i really didn’t want that to be someone’s experience while reading this. so, despite life working really hard to get me to quit, i pushed through and finished it... a REALLY long time later lol. i just hope that anyone who enjoyed ny’s finest, didnt lose any interest during this insanely long wait. i’m sorry and thanks for sticking with it if you have ❤️
> 
> i visualized this fic going a lot of different ways and this ending was just one of many. wherever this universe ends up going, i'm glad i was able to make it this far.
> 
> as always, i hope i did these characters justice. i’ve been winging it way more than i usually do, so any feedback would be appreciated. lmk if you enjoyed it!
> 
> hmu at @maniskordaze on twitter and tumblr!


End file.
